How cruel am I to pass you by now?
And it's, a cold December,
In the heat of next July now,
Will you or won't you remember?
Chorus:
Our summer, will come again,
Our summer, melts the ice again,
Our summer, will come again,
Our summer, melts the ice again.
Gypsy whispers with her wild eyes,
So heavy-handed with the heather,
She says a change of heart lies,
With a change, in the weather.
Chorus x2
Chorus x 3