You may hunt for a runt,
Kick a punt way out front, 
But you'll never find a rhyme for month. 

You may pilfer what you will for
Some dill you may kill for, 
And never find a rhyme for silver. 

You may drink a tea that's herbal,
Burble at a gerbil, 
And still not find a rhyme for purple. 

You may cringe or show courage,
You may throw away your porridge, 
But you'll never find a rhyme,
It's a shame it's not a crime, 
But you'll never find a rhyme for orange.

Merry-Go-Round 

When winter nips our noses, frozen fingers thaw from frost, 
In vain we cry, “Oh summer, how were your warm days lost.” 
Then summer with its stifling heat returns to parch our throats, 
And we can't wait till winter to don our duffel coats. 

Le Carrousel 

En ete, vous songer, 
Que vous aimez l'hiver. 
En hiver, au contraire, 
L'ete maintenant est cher.

Come and see the rain, 
Your trip won't be in vain. 
Morning, noon or night, 
Enjoy the soggy sight. 
And for variety for some hours, 
The rain will turn to showers!