January.
Cold Weather now 'gins to be fierce,
And Norwest Winds our bodys pierce.
February.
The Weather still continues cold,
Therefore warm cloaths are good we hold.
March.
'T is the best Month of all the year,
Wherein to brew good napping Beer.
April.
Now Leaves on Trees begin to spring,
And Birds on Hedges sit and sing.
May.
To walk Five Miles in his own Farm,
Will do a Husbandman no harm.
June.
Now Countrymen each Sun shine day,
Mow down their Grass, and make it hay.
July.
If Mildew now blasts English Grain,
'Twill make poor Husbandmen complain.
August.
But if from Blasting it be free,
The Farmers then should thankful be.
September.
The Leaves from Trees now fall away,
And sweetest Flowers do decay.
October.
If Barns are full, though Fields be empty,
It doth prognosticate a plenty.