The Fair Maids of February

As you walk out on a May morning,
Many a fair maid you’ll spy,
Who’ve all been waiting for this moment,
Their hopes all flying high.

You’ll see them spread across the fields,
All of them on a mission,
But for every maid there are three brisk lads,
Eyeing up the competition.

Now you may decide to chance your arm,
And pray to lady luck,
But those maidens that wander out in May
Are all as common as muck.

But if you want a rarer treat,
Where rivals there are few,
Then those fair maids of February,
They are the ones for you.

These fair maids out of season,
Cunningly they steal
All among the trees and bushes,
Themselves for conceal


Though it’s all quite illegal to play
This game of hide and seek,
If perchance they do get caught
They’d be up before the beak.

So although these maids of February
are exceeding rare,
If you are prepared to persevere,
You’ll catch one in a snare.

And he who dares may win the heart,
Of a Nancy or a Polly,
If you’re practised at the art,
Of Spot the Ball or Where’s Wally

For those fair maids of February
Are bold and fearless lasses,
While those fair-weather maids of May
Are just a load of wusses.

So come all ye brisk and handsome lads,
Whose hearts are bold and merry,
To boldly go where the cold winds do blow
To find those fair maids of February.