It's time to fold the deckchairs pack the buckets and the spades.
Your tan is just like everything eventually it fades.

No more ***** do, or lazy afternoon.
It's time to say goodbye my friends, we hope to see you soon.

It's time to iron the uniforms and polish all the shoes.
With heavy heart the satchels packed, gut wrenching Monday blues.

Summers over now my dear Jack Frost is in the wings.
We try to put the lady off but eventually she sings.

The king is in the counting house, the catchers in the rye.
There's emptiness inside my heart, a tear falls from my eye,

Because it's been the best of times makes coming down much worse.
No more whiskey in the jar no pennies in the purse.

Writing this has somehow helped, I'm starting to feel better.
I think I'll rummage in the drawer and find my Christmas sweater.