IF New Year's Eve night wind blow south,
It betokeneth warmth and growth;
If west, much milk, and fish in the sea;
If north, much cold and storms there will be ;
If east, the trees will bear much fruit;
If north-east-fee it, man and brute !

As the day lengthens
The cold strengthens.

IF Candlemas day be dry and fair,
The half o'winter's to come and mair ;
If Candlemas day be wet and foul,
The half o' winter's gane at Yule.

H

WEATHER RHYMES—continued.

MARCH borrowed from April
Three days, and they were ill;
The first of them was wind and weet,
The second of them was snow and sleet,
The third of them was such a freeze
It froze the birds' nebs to the trees.

APRIL showers
Make May flowers.

WHEN April blows his horn,
It's good for both hay and corn.

Mist in May, and heat in June,

Make the harvest right soon. The evening red, and the morning grey, Will set the traveller on his way.

IF the cock crows on going to bed,
He's sure to rise with a watery head.

A RAINBOW in the morning
Is the shepherd's warning ;
A rainbow at night
Is the shepherd's delight.

WEATHER RHYMES.

123

WEATHER RHYMES—continued.

RAIN, rain,
Go to Spain,
And never come back again.

THE men of the East,
Are picking their geese,
And sending their feathers here away, there away.

SNAIL, snail, shoot out your horn,
And tell us if it will be a bonny day the morn.

To talk of the weather is nothing but folly,
For when it's rain on the hill it may be sun in the

valley.

CHRISTMAS CAROL.

God bless the master of this house,

The mistress also;
And all the little children

That round the table go ;
And all your kin and kinsmen,

That dwell both far and near,
I wish you a merry Christmas,

And a happy new year.

ALL FOOLS' DAY.

APRIL fool ! April fool !
You learn nought by going to school.

GOOD FRIDAY.

ONE a penny, two a penny, hot cross buns!
If your daughters do not like them, give them to

your sons; But if you should have none of these pretty elves, You cannot do better than to eat them yourselves.

The Cuckoo.

125

THE CUCKOO.

us

HE Cuckoo is a fine bird,

He sings as he flies; He brings

good tidings, He tells us no lies. He sucks little birds'

eggs To make his voice

clear; And when he sings

“Cuckoo," The summer is near.

THE Cuckoo comes in April,

Stops all the month of May, Sings a song at midsummer,

And then he goes away.