Snowbound In Gungy

We’re all snowed in in Gungywamp,

     The roads are blocked for fair;

The wind is blowing 45 miles

     And frost is in the air.

The countryside is buried white

     Far as the eye can see;

But we are snug in Gungy town,

     As snug as we can be.

Across the north the winding hills

     Shuts off the wintry blast,

And, shuttered in the lea, we smile

     As it goes roaring past.

Outside, the barns are battened tight,

     The stock is snug and warm;

With bins of hay and grain well filled

     It does not mind the storm.

And in the house? Here is the place

     Where comfort is in store;

The roaring of the open fire

     Scares winter through the door.

The cellar’s stocked with summer’s fruit

     And vegetables galore;

And pumpkins, waiting to be pied,

     Grin from the sandy floor.

But best of all the cellar’s store,

     Is barreled in the fall;

Fair russets, baldwins and the like –

     But that is hardly all!

Rich apple juice to wash them down,

     And soak the popcorn white;

O, Gungy isn’t half so bad

     Upon a winter’s night!

March 6, 1916