Rolled up in a ball by the summer come the fall
I am deflated.

If I say I hate the fall you needn't worry
not at all just
wait 'til winter hurries in.

snow and I've seen icicles hang wild upon my eyebrows
sleet and rain and winds that pain my ears.

I think I like being a ball
Summer after all is sand and sea and if you're not as old as me a bit of *** as well
but don't let my age fool you
I am cool with it and get my bit of
' how's your father' anyway I'd rather not be speaking
of such things,
I'm an antique in
modern parlance.

Spring will spring me back to bring me back into a ball and after all
Summer is what this thing is all about?