I wish you'd go away on this autumn day,
If you haven't a thing that is good to say.
Why must we always hear Frenchmen lament,
About summer's end and autumn's advent.
What has fall to do with death and misery?
Will we ever know? It is a mystery.
Please go away. Don't go 'way mad - just go away.

The starry heavens and the gentle haze,
Have driven away the bright, burning days.
The soft, grey blanket drops its cool showers,
As it gives birth to rainbows and flowers.
And the evening sun sends its dusky rays,
To the flaming trees against skies of grey.
Not your cup of tea? Don't go 'way mad - just go away.

I wish you'd go away on this autumn day,
Move to Los Angeles or Aus-tra-li-ay.
You cramp our style on the holidays,
Dirges don't fit in with football pep rallies.
They don't go too well with decking the halls,
Or seeing the home team on Monday Night Football.
Take your litany. Don't go 'way mad - just go away.

Your pity party is wearing oh so thin,
I'm going someplace where I can fit in.
To South Germany, to Berchtesgaden,
With Oktoberfest in the air therein.
The Frenchmen can have their Dom Peregnon,
The Germans drink beer and know how to have fun!
Bon voyage, auf wiedersehen - I'm going away.

Roll out the barrel...