Melancholy March, Your gloom is showing, Your winds are glowing Across the sky.
Melancholy March, Your clouds are crying, Your trees are sighing As though they’ll die.
I know you’re late for Winter’s tale, Too early for any Spring, So we stand, Hand in hand, Waiting for anything!
Melancholy March, Without a season, You have no reason Or rhyme to be.
Melancholy March, Meet melancholy me!
Melancholy March, Meet melancholy me!