And Fall, with her yeller harvest moon and the hills growin' brown and golden under a sinkin' sun.

And Fall, with her yeller harvest moon and the hills growin' brown and golden under a sinkin' sun.

Roy Bean
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Time will pass and seasons will come and go.

Roy Bean
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And Fall, with her yeller harvest moon and the hills growin' brown and golden under a sinkin' sun.

Roy Bean
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And finally Winter, with its bitin', whinin' wind, and all the land will be mantled with snow.

Roy Bean
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