We Have C.C., But What Of Hughes-ey, The Promised Hope Of Springtime?

Hughe-sey was the promised kiss of springtime
That made the steamy summer seem short
He had some breathless stuff in evenings
That kept the opposition trembling without support.
He was the angel glow that made us stars
He brought us the dearest things we knew by far
But alas, now his happy arm has fallen
And those autumn days with moments divine,
May never be won by Yankee nines.