it plays up me rheumatics now I am old.
But still, all the same, I just can’t accept
the cold and the grey and the eternal wet.
What’s happened to Winter? To tell you the truth
it’s nothing like Winter was all through my youth.
First we had autumn, with glorious leaves:
huge windy days and frightening trees.
Then the gales started. Nights black as sin.
We cuddled by firesides, ate crumpets, stayed in.
Till suddenly waking one day with alarm
‘cos outside the house ‘twas unnaturally calm.
Oh the lightness and brightness of wonderful snow:
we dashed out the house with our faces aglow.
We whooped and we danced and we sang out for joy
oh, snow was our uttermost favourite toy!
And so Winter began: the snow came to stay
as our constant companion all through those days.
Our world stayed quite white, frost rimed my nose,
my fingers, my mittens, every one of my toes.
But I didn’t care: no, none of us did.
No longer cared we that Summer was hid.
Oh bring back old Winter, who cares if we freeze?
It’s better than sitting in wet to our knees.
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