March! I'm nuts upon a windy day,
Gurls do git in such a awful way.
Petticoats yer know, and pooty feet;
Hair all flying--tell you it's a treat.
Pancake day. Don't like 'em--flabby, tough,
Rayther do a pennorth o' plum-duff.
Seediness shows up as Spring advances,
Ah! the gurls do lead us pretty dances.
Days a-lengthening.
Think I spotted Fan
Casting sheep's eyes at another man.
Quarter-day, too, no more chance of tick.
Fancy I shall 'ave to cut my stick.
Got the doldrums dreadful, that is clear.
Two _d._ left--must go and do a beer.