The darn snow keeps falling down
Mounds of it piled all over town
It’s only December
But we’ll remember
At the least we didn’t drown.
… … …
For sure the grass has stopped growing
Some snowbirds have ways of knowing
They should get out of here
When the coast is still clear
To head south where the whiskey’s flowing.
… … …
Most of us remain behind
And find something to distract our mind
We’ll just find a warm coat
Or fondle buttons on our remote
And admire those snowbanks so streamlined.
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