Ol’
Winter’s peekin’ threw the cracks,
To nip us on the nose;
He
pokes his head beneath the quilts
To bite our heels and toes.
He
whistles threw the barren trees,
An’ o’er the medders white;
He
thunders down the frozen streams
With angry snarl and bite.
He’s
out to see ef he kin ketch
Us nappin’ anywhere;
Ef
we ain’t bundled snug an’ warm
Ol’ Winter doesn’t care.
A
cold, unfeelin’ chap who likes
To make us dance an’ sing;
An’
all must bow an’ scrape to him
‘Cuz Winter now is King.
Ol’
Winter hol’s the reins an’ drives
Us
here an’ there at will;
An’
tho’ we hug the red-hot stove
We are his subjects still.
Where’er
we go, what e’er we dew,
Ol’ Winter’ll have his fling,
But
we will sharp our axe an’ take
His head off in the spring.
Dec.
15, ‘05
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