The March Wind
The merry March wind is a boisterous fellow,
He tosses the trees; and the daffodils yellow
Dance and sway, as he blows by
To hurry the clouds across the sky.
He plays such pranks with the weather vane,
Turning it round, then back again.
But the game he enjoys the best of all,
Is blowing my bonnet right over a wall.
He tosses the trees; and the daffodils yellow
Dance and sway, as he blows by
To hurry the clouds across the sky.
He plays such pranks with the weather vane,
Turning it round, then back again.
But the game he enjoys the best of all,
Is blowing my bonnet right over a wall.
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