Autumn songs

In the community where I grew up, singing was an important thing. So was the passing of the seasons and the celebrations we have to mark each. I dug up a few of the songs I remember from my childhood. Most of these can be found in the wonderful songbook, Sing Through the Seasons.

Autumn Roundelay

Here I sit and wait for you,
Neath the spreading branches.
Cool the grass with shade and dew
Sunlight on me dances.

Hi lu leea leea la
Now my voice is ringing
Hi lu leea leea la
Songs to you I'm singing

Fall is in the air today
Hear the wild geese crying
Don't delay come out and play
Snow will soon be flying.

Hi lu leea leea la
Now my voice is ringing
Hi lu leea leea la
Songs to you I'm singing

Come You Thankful People

Come, you thankful people, come,
raise the song of harvest home;
all is safely gathered in
ere the winter storms begin;
God, our Maker, does provide
all our wants to be supplied;
come, with all his people come,
raise the song of harvest home.

The Boughs Do Shake
The boughs do shake, and the bells do ring,
So merrily comes our harvest in,
Our harvest in, our harvest in,
So merrily comes our harvest in!

We have ploughed, we have sowed,
We have reaped, we have mowed,
We have brought home every load,
Hip, hip, hip, harvest-home!

The boughs do shake, and the bells do ring,
So merrily comes our harvest in,
Our harvest in, our harvest in,
So merrily comes our harvest in!

Hurry, Hurry  [listen to it HERE]
Rabbit twitched his twitchety ears on a twinkling autumn day,
He could hear the North Wind whistle and he scampered off to say:
Hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry, we must all get fat and furry,
Not a moment to be lost, I can hear bold Jackie Frost.

Groundhog sniffed her sniffety nose on a snappy autumn day
She could smell the winter coming, and she waddled off to say:
Hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry, we must all get fat and furry,
Not a moment to be lost, I can smell bold Jackie Frost.

Squirrel shivered a shivery shiver on a shiv'ry autumn day
He could feel the North Wind's fingers, and he scurried off to say:
Hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry, we must all get fat and furry,
Not a moment to be lost, I can feel bold Jackie Frost.

Black Bear blinked her blinkety eyes on a blust'ry autumn day
She could see the snow clouds gather, and she lumbered off to say:
Hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry, we must all get fat and furry,
Not a moment to be lost, I can see bold Jackie Frost.

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Home

It’s autumn here in New England.

There’s a tree nearby the lot where I park at my workplace. It stands in a backyard below the street, a rusty railing guarding its trunk, unable to prevent the branches from hanging half over the sidewalk above. It is beautiful, this tree, all scarlet and rose against the blue sky. As I walk up the street to the office building, my feet walk on a carpet of faded pinks and reds, a floor fit for a king or queen – and yet, instead of sedate and queenly, I want to kick the rustling leaves high into the air.

It’s autumn.

The hills surrounding my valley home are a mixture of mottled browns and greens, scarlet and orange and yellow…I can see the church steeple from the front step of my workplace, a sandy colored bell tower framed by fall colors.

Our neighbor has already started using their wood stove, sending a distinctly autumny smell into the air. It’s apple picking season: homemade apple crumb pie and fresh-pressed apple cider. I always want to buy school supplies at this time of the year. New pens and pencils and fresh, clean notebooks. Binders. Markers.

It’s a half melancholy, half happy time of the year for me. The ending of so much is near, yet the beginning of so much, too. End of warm weather, sunshine and crickets. Beginning of knowledge and words and adventure.

It’s a warm feeling today and a shivery one tomorrow. Fog in the mornings, shrouding those colorful hills. Sweaters and brown shoes, breath in the air. The crunch of my teeth against crisp apples.

School has begun again, not for me, but for brothers and sisters. Reading lessons and trouble with algebra are once again added to the cacophony of daily life. And my sister is playing a song from a movie soundtrack on the piano. “Under the Umbrella” from Little Women.

I listen.

It sounds like autumn.

It sounds like home.

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