Someone was naughty

And it wasn't me

"When oxen unlocked laid their foreheads together, 
And berries were ripe for the school-boys to gather,
When sultry heats over the hill-tpps were winking
And down in the hollows the streamlets were shrinking;
When birds hushed their musical glee to a Twitter,
Came July,  with a mist of gold over her litter.

Alice Cary