I'm missing summer, ready for winter.

Pretty flowers are made for blooming,

Pretty stars are made to shine.

Pretty girls are made for boy's love,

Little Maggie was made for mine.

Well, yonder stands little Maggie

With a dram glass in her hand,

She's a drinkin' down her troubles

Over courtin' some other man.

Bob sings about Maggie a lot.

It's autumn.

But I really miss painting in Italy.