If Mildew now blasts English Grain,
'Twill make poor Husbandmen complain.

_August._

But if from Blasting it be free,
The Farmers then should thankful be.

_September._

The Leaves from Trees now fall away,
And sweetest Flowers do decay.

_October._

If Barns are full, though Fields be empty,
It doth prognosticate a plenty.

_November._

One day this Month each Fruitful year,
Give thanks to GOD, and Eat good chear.

_December._

The Weather now 'gins to be cold,
Which makes to shrink both young and old.


* * * * *