Trust not a day
Ere birth of May.
A swarm of bees in May
Is worth a load of hay.
A swarm of bees in June
Is worth a silver spoon.
A swarm of bees in July
Is not worth a fly.
Plant pumpkin seeds in May
And they will run away.
Plant pumpkin seeds in June
And they will come soon.
Cut thistles in May,
They grow in a day.
Cut them in June,
That is too soon.
Cut them in July,
then they will die.
He that would live for aye,
He must eat sage in May.
Marry in the month of May,
And you'll surely rue the day.
The fair maid who, the first of May,
Goes to the fields at break of day,
And walks in dew from the hawthorntree
Will ever after handsome be.
--from The Annotated Mother Goose, by William S. and Cecil Baring-Gould.
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