I. Hotly burns the amaryllis With its stars of red; Whitely rise the stately lilies From the lily bed; Withered shrinks the wax May-apple 'Neath its parasol; Chilly dies the violet dapple In its earthly hall. II. March is but a blust'ring liar, April a sad love, May a milkmaid from the byre Flirting in the grove. June is rich in many blossoms, She's the one I'll woo; Health swells in her sunny bosoms, She's my sweetheart true.
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