The months are met with their crownlets on
As Julius Caesar crowned them
With slaves, the gentlemen thirty-one
And the ladies thirty round them

But who shall be monarch of all you ask?
Go ask of the boys and maidens
For that is the lads' and the lasses' task
And they choose him afar in cadence

October! October!
March to the dull and sober!
The suns of May
For the schoolgirls' play
But give to the boys October
October! October!


Who wrote this? I can't remember.