Season

 1 Summer|  his lips crawls out of his foul bed; ~Then, having cursed
 2 Summer| Thus, we have never heard a foul word from his lips; ~And
 3 Summer|     to do his work, ~Like a foul tumblebug amessing in the
 4 Summer|     As nasty to look at and foul to talk about. ~But those
 5 Autumn|     stove ~And smacking his foul lips, awaiting for the meal, ~
 6 Autumn| your eyes down inside these foul huts, ~You see but weather-beaten,
 7 Autumn|   now you even smell like a foul tumblebug.~Some days ago
 8 Autumn|    on my head! ~Peleda, you foul thing, with Slunkius, your
 9 Autumn|  charred ruins stare. ~Such foul activities of the uncouth
10 Autumn|     roll therein, ~Till the foul vomit spreys across the
11 Winter| friends you well recall how foul Docys last year~Burned down