Oh, the January man, he walks the road in woollen coat and boots of leather.
The February man still shakes the snow from off his hair and blows his hands.
Oh, 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 comes down to watch the birds come in to share the summer.
The man of May stands very still watching the children dance away the day.
In June the man inside the man is young and wants to lend a hand
And grins at each newcomer.
And in July the man in cotton shirt, he sits and thinks on being idle.
The August man in thousands takes the road to watch the sea and find the sun.
September man is standing near to saddle up another the year
And Autumn is his bridle.
And the man of new October takes the reins and early frost is on his shoulder.
The poor November man sees fire and rain and snow and mist and wintry gale.
December man looks through the snow to let eleven brothers know
They're all a little older.
And the January man comes round again in woollen coat and boots of leather
To take another turn and walk along the icy road he knows so well.
For the January man is here for starting each and every year
Along the road for ever.