When March comes like a lion,
You know the month will not be boring.
He lashes out with naughty breezes
Lifting skirts above some kneeses.
He whoops and swoops and bellows
As windy as a Senate caucus.
He'll coax some sailors out
And then he'll lift a wave and
He'll gather paper from each street
And leave the paving looking neat,
While every bush, in branch and trunk,
He drapes with cloth and paper junk.
But we'll forgive his antics wild
While he is young and still a child;
For soon, when jonquils, shy and dear,
Tell Maryland that April's near,
He'll change his style and
settle down --
A gentleman from sole to crown.
Then March, transformed by
Will stop behaving leonine,
And don a soft white coat to greet,
In Baltimore on any street,
Dear April, maiden bright and fair,
Who perfumes all our city air.
And March will meet her like a lamb
With daffodils in either hand.