spend Autumn with me?

I sit here a singin',
all perched in my tree,
the words are not there,
but the lyrics are free,
a sweet morning song,
to the pleasure of all,
a cool and bright morning,
New England in fall.
The leaves are all parting,
the days they grow short,
the colors of Autumn; before Winter's retort,
the splendor is there,
for all to come see,
won't you visit New England,
and spend Autumn with me?