Thinkin' of old chums 'at's dead,

Maybe, smilin' back at you

In betwixt the beautiful

Clouds o' gold and white and blue!—

Month a man kin railly love—

June, you know, I'm talkin' of!

March ain't never nothin' new!

Aprile's altogether too

Brash fer me! and May—I jes'

'Bominate its promises,—