The January man he goes around in woolen coat and boots of leather.
The February man still shakes the snow from off his clothes and blows his hands.
The man of March he sees the Spring and wonders what the year will bring,
and hopes for better weather.Through April rain the man goes down to watch the birds come in to share the summer.
The man of May stands very still to watch the children dance away the day.
In June the man inside the man is young and wants to lend a hand
and smiles at each newcomer.

In July the man in cotton shirt he sits and thinks on being idle.
The August man in thousands take the road to find the sun and watch the sea.
September man is standing near to saddle up another year
And Autumn is his bridle.

The man of new October takes the rain and early frost is on his shoulder.
The poor November man sees fire and mist and wind and rain and winter ere
December man looks through the snow to let eleven brothers know they’re all a little older.

The January man he comes around again in woolen coat and boots of leather,
to take another turn and walk along the icy road he knows so well.
The January man is here the start of each and every year,
Along the road forever.