Rhymes Out of Season

Jack Frost is round the corner

     Jest waitin’ in the shade,

To swat you on the fingers

     With his cold weather blade.

He’s hidin’ in the bushes,

     Jest keepin’ out o’ sight;

But one o’ these here evenin’s

     You’re goin’ to feel his bite.

Jack Frost is bent on mischief,

     No matter where he goes;

He likes to clip your fingers

     An’ shorten up your toes.

He’s dressed in autumn colors

     Your spirit to beguile;

But when he gets you nappin’

     He’ll freeze you with a smile.

Perhaps these lines are early,

     An’ out uv season quite;

But then, we have to do it

     Or git out uv the fight,

With magazines and journals,

     With pushers of the pen,

All hev to up an’ hustle

     To beat the other men.

July 31, ‘09