  January, Bitter, very! February damp, Sir; March blows On April's nose, May has caught the cramp, Sir; June, Without a sun or moon! July, August, Many a raw gust; September, October, November, December, Ten times worse than I ever remember. No apples, or hay, or honey, or corn; I'm sure it wasn't a fat year. Whenever you and I were born, Good-luck it wasn't in that year! flower |
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