February sat quietly in a class
With eleven other lads and lass

Took out his books
(Thirty-five in all)
To threatening looks
(from them all)

First came January
Who was a bully
We’ve all got thirty, she said
But flaunt you had
To and now you’re dead
And pinched one
From poor February
To settle the score
And left him with thirty-four

Then came December
As far as I remember
Who grabbed one
Even though September
Tried to stop her
And left February
With thirty-three

Then it was May
Who made him pay
Poor February
Had nothing to say
Or do
Now down to thirty-two

July followed them
Another book was gone
February now had
Only thirty-one

August came next
Grabbed another text
Oh this is fun
You better not complain
I’m only taking one
Down to thirty you are
How it should have been
From the beginnin’

When it was October’s turn
February protested
I’ve as much as you
This you cannot do
Leave me alone
I ain’t giving you one
October laughed and shoved him
I ain’t gonna be left behind
Now if you don’t mind
Just hand it over to me
Before I take away three
Poor February sighed Fine
And was down to twenty-nine

March, sitting next to him, said
Even though you’re my friend
I hope you understand
Give me one too and
If you don’t they’ll kick
Me out of their clique

And that, my friend
Is how a fab day
For February came to an end
Unintentionally inviting hate
Started off with thirty-five
Ended up with twenty-eight