Churlish May

My friend has recently had me obsessed with this song, Churlish May, and Johnny Flynn in general. I'm quite infatuated, his lyrics are poetry.

I met Jane is September's throe. January's grasp, we let each other go.
I met Helen on March's back, she took my coat and she stole my hat.
I met you when the weather got fine, you said "I've got yours if you've got mine."

And the worst and best of all we knew stayed out to rust in the morning dew.

Didn't take long to sing our love, was a harvest feast, was a hand to glove.
When winter came, you couldn't stand to sit. You're just the same, never burnt but lit.
With the world at war and my thoughts on you, I didn't care to fall, there wasn't much to do.

And the worst and best of all we knew stayed out to rust in the morning dew.

Churlish May when the year was fair, gone full circle when things went square.
Ate my meal, an unnoble beast, left me to pay, not a movable feast.
Look I've got nothing, don't know where I am, got a fistfull of questions, not an answer to hand.

And the worst and the best of all we knew stayed out to rust in the morning dew.
Morning dew. With a blow me down, we're all dead in the wood,

Further from you now than the roots from the leaves.
Drunk from the wood, never seen any trees.
My oar's out the water and the lake that I'm sailing is your dear father's daughter
and it's cold and I'm ailing.
Are you drowning me slowly? Was a school meant to teach?
Are you leaving so slowly? Where's the shore? Where's the beach?

And the worst and best of all we knew stayed out to rust in the morning dew.