“Pick a flower, you may,”
Says the blooming lady,
“The sweet flower of May,”
To the leathered dandy.

“Pick it up like a day,
To whom you’d say howdy,
Seize my breezy mayday,
Be gentle and hardy.”

“Friends call me a gourmet,
Miss, your lips are candy,
But sugar, in dismay,
I’d rather sip brandy.

I’m light as a feather,
Fast as a free birdy,
Changing as the weather,
Announcing tragedy.

I’m a man of April,
And my feelings, sandy,
Dandelions seedy,
Vanish like an idyll.

Offer your daffodil,
To the baron Samedi,
Keep hips and apron still,
I dismiss them lady.”

“I’d have fall for a dance,
A lad true and handy,
A light-hearted romance,
To make life comedy.

My love was not greedy,
Nor needy but credence,
You’ve missed your one last chance,
To flourish as daddy.”