My winter love I loved in spring;
We met in my nativity.
But when I found my love for him,
He'd met senility.

My autumn love was much the worse,
He met me in my summer's heat
And when the harvest moon arrived,
He'd much too chilly feet.

My summer love was full of life,
But autumn costs a price too steep:
He'd wake each day at half-past two,
And I would be asleep.

My springtime love, though, God preserve
Until he wakes to find me dead.
He takes the winter out of me
And makes me young instead.