Classic Poem

By this fire I warme my handes;
And with my spade I delve my landes.
Here I sette my thinge to springe;
And here I here the fowles singe.
I am as light as birde in bowe;
And I wede my corne well enow.
With my sythe my mede I mawe;

And here I shere my corne full lowe.
With my flail I erne my brede;
And here I sawe my whete so rede.
At Martinesmasse I kille my swine;
And at Cristemasse I drinke redde wine.

Januar: By this fire I warme my handes,
Februar: And with my spade I delfe my landes.
Marche: Here I sette my thinge to springe,
Aprile: And here I heer the fowles singe.
Maii: I am as light as birde in bow,
Junii: And I weede my corne well ynow.
Julii: With my sithe my mede I mowe,
Auguste: And here I shere my corne full lowe.
September: With my flail I erne my bred,
October: And here I sowe my whete so red.
November: At Martinesmasse I kille my swine,
December: And at Cristesmasse I drinke red wine.