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MOTHER STORIES
93
In April's sweet month,
When leaves begin to spring,
Little lambs skip like fairies,
And birds build and sing.
A sunshiny shower,
Won't last half an hour.
Thirty days hath September,
April, June, and November;
February has twenty-eight alone,
All the rest have thirty-one,
Excepting Leap-year, that's the time
When February's days are twenty-nine.
The fair maid who, the first of May,
Goes to the fields at break of day,
And washes in dew from the hawthorn-tree,
Will ever after handsome be.
"Shake a leg, wag a leg, when will you
gang?"
"At midsummer, mother, when the days
are lang."
