In the merry month of May,
There is a change in the air.
With the skies no longer gray,
May breaks the spell of despair.


Gloomy days she’s left behind,
As birds have returned to roost.
In her yard, new blooms she’ll find,
To give her spirits a boost.


In her garden, May oft sits,
Imbibing warmth from her glass,
But at five o’clock she quits,
By then, quite a merry lass.


Yes, indeed, May is merry,
Delighted to be out doors,
Getting tipsy from sherry.
Another tall drink she pours.