Efterår…
22. september 2008Nu kan det ikke benægtes længere. Vi står bogstaveligt talt i efteråret. Gravhunden og så mig. Under vores fødder (og poter) ligger en bunke blade i alskens efterårsnuancer.
“From the dew-soaked hedge creeps a crawly caterpillar,
When the dawn begins to crack.
It’s all part of my autumn almanac.
Breeze blows leaves over, mostly coloured yellow,
So I sweep them in my sack.
Yes, yes, yes, it’s my autumn almanac.
Friday evenings, people get together,
Hiding from the weather.
Tea and toasted, buttered currant buns
Can’t compensate for lack of sun,
Because the summer’s all gone.
La-la-la-la…
Oh, my poor rheumatic back
Yes, yes, yes, it’s my autumn almanac.
La-la-la-la…
Oh, my autumn almanac
Yes, yes, yes, it’s my autumn almanac.
I like my football on a Saturday,
Roast beef on Sundays, all right.
I go to Blackpool for my holidays,
Sit in the open sunlight.
This is my street, and I’m never gonna leave it,
And I’m always gonna stay here
If I live to be ninety-nine,
‘Cause all the people I meet
Seem to come from my street
And I can’t get away,
Because it’s calling me, (come on home)
Hear it calling me, (come on home)
La-la-la-la…
Oh, my autumn Armagnac
Yes, yes, yes, it’s my autumn almanac.
La-la-la-la…
Oh, my autumn almanac
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.
Bop-bop-bopm-bop-bop, whoa!
Bop-bop-bopm-bop-bop, whoa!
(etc.)“
– jeg elsker bare den sang…
The Kinks – Autumn Almanac
