(New Version, adapted to existing Climatic Conditions).
[CONSIDERING apology superfluous, Mr. Punch offers none, as the Poet Laureate will doubtless approve the modification of his beautiful lines, rendered needful by recent meteorological conditions.]
YOU must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear;
To-morrow'll be the tryingest time of all the Spring, this year—
Of all the Spring, this year, mother, the dreariest, dreadfullest day;
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.
There'll be many a red, red nose, no doubt, but none so red as mine;
For the wind is still in the East, mother, and makes one peak and pine:
And we're going to have six weeks of it, or so the prophets say say—
And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.