APPLE PRESSING
(Jean Vala MacAvoy)

Oh the days are warm, the nights are crisp
Turn, turn the apple press
Of all the year this time is best
And oh, how fine are the apples

The river's misty in the morn
Turn, turn the apple press
The ghost of summer lingers on
And oh, how fine are the apples

The geese are flying overhead
Turn, turn the apple press
They call to us that summer's dead
And oh, how fine are the apples

But never mind that summer's lost
Turn, turn the apple press
Harvest comes with autumn's frost
And oh, how fine are the apples

The trees are bending with their weight
Turn, turn the apple press
We'll pick them clean so they stand straight
And oh, how fine are the apples

And when we've picked and chopped and squeezed
Turn, turn the apple press
We'll share our nectar with the bees
And oh, how fine are the apples

And when bees and men have drunk their fill
Turn, turn the apple press
We'll feel the warmth of summer still
And oh, how fine are the apples

This being my transcription after getting the CD.
Blessings,
Barbara
I will check out that website, thanks Chris.