It's September Sunday morning
And the sky is blue and fair.
The sun shines bright and warming,
Pealing church bells fill the air.
A beef roasts in the oven
We're all in our Sunday best.
The Preacher teaches about loving
Then we take our day of Rest.
There'll be no shopping done today
(We got that done last night).
All's quiet up and down the way
Main Street's shops are locked up tight.
That's how it looked when I was small
I'm thankful to have known:
Worship and rest for one and all
Sweet September Sundays long ago.