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Some tales say morrow knows, I know not why they say so,

some go where sorrow goes, I know not

where they do go

One comes with winter's wind to tell a tale of mourning,

one free as summer's sin, to tell

a tale of mourning

Spinning around in circles every day,

spinning around and finding no new way

Spinning around, spinning around they say,

I wish them all dead anyway

So sing the poets then, I know not why they sing so,

so go they sorrow's friends, I know not

where they do go

One comes with autumn's rain and sings a song of mourning,

one sets the spring aflame

And sings a song of mourning

Spnning around in circles every day, spinning around and finding no new way

Spinning around, spinning around they say, I wish they all could go away