If you were a month, And she defines you with flower, I would pick each month a new flower, And vessel your month with colour and grace, That will linger around the merry town. In January, I'll warm you with Sunflowers, So mighty and true, it will stand so bright. In February, I'll warm you another Marigolds, So yellow and mellow, it will smell so nice. In March, I'll give you Daffodils, Enough to welcome a summer right. In April, I'll give you Holly, Enough to embrace the loving Sun. In May, I may dress you with Daisy, Maybe, would you like it?. In June, i will dress you with Primrose, Maybe, you will love it. In July, I'll fill your vessel with Lilly, Far so near, but all from the valley. In August, I'll fill your vessel with Cosmos, Far so near, but not from the star. In September, you will wear Honeysuckle, No bees ,no honey, no suckle. In October, you will wear Morning glory, Every day, every morning, every glory. In November, I'll weave the Snowdrop, And gather winter wools and crop. In December, I'll weave the Mums and peony, And we shall laugh all winter long with comfy. So out of Bloom, And so in need of groom, Each month you withered, Each month i replaced, Yet she was was never there; not now and will never.