It's a new era, and I will confess
I'd like to clean up this calendar mess.
The moon and the sun are not quite in sync
They're not on speaking terms, that's what I think.
Twelve lunar months, at least that's what I hear,
Do not quite add up to one solar year.
Nor is a solar year, like that of Mars,
Quite the same length as a year by the stars.
As a result of these mismatched time gears
We have been stuck with this thing called leap years.
One year in every four, says the time fairy,
There shall be one more day in February.
And to this schedule we must now adhere
Unless a century ends on that year.
Then if you add a day, you will have blundered
Unless the year can divide by four hundred.
That would make this year a leap year, I think:
'Cause if it isn't, then I'll raise a stink.
With all these rules, it's no wonder we're late
Setting our calendars to the right date.
The date of Thanksgiving's hard to remember;
It's the last Thursday, I know, in November.
Then you have Easter. To find out its date
You need a computer to calculate.
Some months have thirty days, some thirty-one.
Keeping track of which has which is no fun.
I'd like to start afresh with something new:
A twenty-six month year, that's what I'd do!
With fourteen days in each month, it's no lie
We could kiss April the fifteenth goodbye!
Keeping track of these dates is such a chore:
I'm glad my calendar comes from a store.