We like March lyrics

We like March — his shoes are Purple.

He is new and high —

Makes he Mud for Dog and Peddler —

Makes he Forests Dry —

Knows the Adder's Tongue his coming

And begets her spot —

Stands the Sun so close and mighty —

That our Minds are hot.

News is he of all the others —

Bold it were to die

With the Blue Birds buccaneering

On his British sky —