The Year of SirStanGhost

	From the 1st of the 1st To the last of the last The calander dictates Our every repast Usually we find February & March There hand in hand Until the very end When March does expand However one year in every four They always fall out Over Februarys mad leaping Who are making Amends In this wierd circumstance We find some new friends It's January and April When away from your sight For one year in four New Year does coincide With that peculiar month In which the fool does reside Now in May and June The year really blooms Like beautiful young ladies Released from their rooms For all summers beauty Is there on display It makes all young men With them want to play Through July and August We continue this story As ladies in bikinis Display all their glory Yes at this time of year To mans (& lesbians) delight Beautiful young ladies Are always in sight		O D E T O T H E C A L A N D E R Back to odes		In the midst of our rapture September soon does arrive And against our pleaseure Does always contrive Sometimes it succeeds And Beauty's lost to fog Only coaxed out in winter By wine, hearth and fire log But some years summer rallies She returns and declares As a beauty from India I show you my wares Alas we must move on Swiftly once more As October haunts us Towards the years dealthly door But before we get there Novembers here with a commotion Of fire and explosions But a complete lack of devotion Devotion is Decembers At least amongst the devout About the Lords birth They do warble, sing and shout For others it's a time For family and friends A time to argue And make amends And if in dark December We occasionally fall to fear Cheer up, around the corner Is a happy new year A great new year for our every repast From the 1st of the 1st to the last of the last