Kipling:

Oh, do not tell the Priest our plight, Or he would call it a sin;

But we have been out in the woods all night, A-conjuring Summer in!

And Lerner and Lowe:

It's May! It's May! The lusty month of May!...

Those dreary vows that ev'ryone takes, Ev'ryone breaks.

Ev'ryone makes divine mistakes!

The lusty month of May