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Oh, the January man, he walks the road in woollen coat and boots of leather. |
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The February man still shakes the snow from off his hair and blows his hands. |
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Oh, the man of March he sees the Spring and wonders what the year will bring |
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And hopes for better weather. |
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Through April rain the man comes down to watch the birds come in to share the summer. |
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The man of May stands very still watching the children dance away the day. |
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In June the man inside the man is young and wants to lend a hand |
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And grins at each newcomer. |
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And in July the man in cotton shirt, he sits and thinks on being idle. |
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The August man in thousands takes the road to watch the sea and find the sun. |
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September man is standing near to saddle up another the year |
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And Autumn is his bridle. |
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And the man of new October takes the reins and early frost is on his shoulder. |
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The poor November man sees fire and rain and snow and mist and wintry gale. |
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December man looks through the snow to let eleven brothers know |
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They're all a little older. |
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And the January man comes round again in woollen coat and boots of leather |
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To take another turn and walk along the icy road he knows so well. |
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For the January man is here for starting each and every year |
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Along the road for ever. |
