X:1
T:The Months of the year.
F:http://www.folkinfo.org/songs
B:Songs of the West by S. Baring-Gould
S:
M:6/8
L:1/4
K:Eb
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w:First comes Jan-u-a-ry When the sun lies ve-ry low; I
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w:see in the farm-er's yard-The cat-tle feed on stro'; The
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w:wea-ther be-ing so cold While the snow lies on the ground, There
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w: will be an-o-ther change of moon Be-fore *the year comes round.
W:First comes January
W:When the sun lies very low;
W:I see in the farmer's yard
W:The cattle feed on stro';
W:The weather being so cold
W:While the snow lies on the ground,
W:There will be another change of moon
W:Before the year comes round.
W:
W:Next is February,
W:So early in the spring;
W:The Farmer ploughs the fallows
W:The rooks their nests begin.
W:The little lambs appearing
W:Now frisk in pretty play.
W:I think upon the increase,
W:And thank my God, today.
W:
W:March it is the next month,
W:So cold and hard and drear.
W:Prepare we now for harvest,
W:By brewing of strong beer.
W:God grant that we who labour,
W:May see the reaping come,
W:And drink and dance and welcome
W:The happy Harvest Home.
W:
W:Next of months is April,
W:When early in the morn
W:The cheery farmer soweth
W:To right and left the corn.
W:The gallant team come after,
W:A-smoothing of the land.
W:May heaven the Farmer prosper
W:Whate'er he takes in hand.
W:
W:In May I go a-walking
W:To hear the linnets sing.
W:The blackbird and the throstle
W:A-praising God the King.
W:It cheers the heart to hear them
W:To see the leaves unfold,
W:The meadows scattered over
W:With buttercups of gold.
W:
W:Full early in the morning
W:Awakes the summer sun,
W:The month of June arriving,
W:The cold and night are done,
W:The Cuckoo is a fine bird
W:She whistles as she flies,
W:And as whistles, Cuckoo,
W:The bluer grow the skies.
W:
W:Six months I now have named,
W:The seventh is July.
W:Come lads and lasses gather
W:The scented hay to dry,
W:All full of mirth and gladness
W:To turn it in the sun,
W:And never cease till daylight sets
W:And all the work is done.
W:
W:August brings the harvest,
W:The reapers now advance,
W:Against their shining sickles
W:The field stands little chance.
W:Well done! exclaims the farmer.
W:This day is all men's friend.
W:We'll drink and feast in plenty
W:When we the harvest end.
W:
W:By middle of September,
W:The rake is laid aside.
W:The horses wear the breeching
W:Rich dressing to provide,
W:All things to do in season,
W:Me-thinks is just and right.
W:Now summer season's over
W:The frosts begin at night.
W:
W:October leads in winter.
W:The leaves begin to fall.
W:The trees will soon be naked
W:No flowers left at all.
W:The frosts will bite them sharply
W:The Elm alone is green.
W:In orchard piles of apples red
W:For cyder press are seen.
W:
W:The eleventh month, November,
W:The nights are cold and long,
W:By day we're felling timber,
W:And spend the night in song.
W:In cozy chimney corner
W:We take our toast and ale,
W:And kiss and tease the maidens,
W:Or tell a merry tale.
W:
W:Then comes dark December,
W:The last of months in turn.
W:With holly, box and laurel,
W:We house and Church adorn.
W:So now, to end my story,
W:I wish you all good cheer.
W:A merry, happy Christmas,
W:A prosperous new year.