February fill the ditch, Black or white we don't care which.
All the months of the year Fear a fair Februeer.
There is an old proverb, That birds of a feather On Saint Valentine's day Will meet together.
Why, Valentine's a day to choose A mistress, and our freedom lose? May I my reason interpose, The question with an answer close? To imitate we have a mind, And couple like the winged kind.
I early rose, just at the break of day, Before the sun had chased the stars away; Afield I went, amid the morning dew, To milk my kine (for so should housewives do), Thee first I spied, and the first swain we see. In spite of fortune, shall our true-love be.
Beef and bacon's out of season, I want a pan to parch my peason.
Knick-knock, the pan's hot, And we are come a-shroving, For a piece of pancake, Or a piece of bacon, Or a piece of truckle cheese Of your own making.
On Shrove Tuesday night, though the supper be fat, Before Easter Day thou mayst fast for that.
The housekeeper goes to the huxter's shop, And the eggs are brought home, and there's flop! flop! flop! And there's batter, and butter, and savoury smell, While merrily rings the Pancake Bell.
So much sun as shineth on Pancake Tuesday, the like will shine every day in Lent.
A hoar frost, Third day crost, The fourth lost.
One for the mouse, one for the crow, One to rot, one to grow.
Sow peason and beans in the wane of the moone, Who soweth them sooner, he soweth too soon; That they with the planet may rest and rise, And flourish with bearing, most plentiful wise.
If February gives much snow A fine summer it doth foreshow.
Now set for thy pot Best herbs to be got, For flowers go set, All sorts ye can get.
In Oxfordshire the first bee seen in February is saluted, as this is said to bring good luck.
"Did he do it? Did he do it? Come and see, come and see; Knee deep, knee deep; Cherry sweet, cherry sweet, To me! to me! to me!"
The pretty lark, Climbing the welkin clear, Chaunts with a "Cheer, here, peer, I near my dear!" When stooping thence, Seeming her fall to rue, "Adieu," she cries, "Adieu! dear Love, adieu!"
When after a rough and stormy day there is a lull in the wind at the going down of the sun, old men say: "Us shall have better weather now, for the wind's gone to sleep with the sun."