January falls the snow,
February cold winds blows,
In March peep out the early flowers,
And in April comes with sunny showers.
In May the rose bloom so gay,
In June the farmer mows his hay,
In July brightly shines the sun,
In August harvest is begun.
September turns the green leaves brown,
October winds then shake them down,
November fills with bleak and smear,
December comes & ends the year.
Flora Willis Watson
