OREGON SNOW
I’M glad I’m not in town today
For townfolk always have a way
Of hating snow—they stamp it off
Their feet and shake their clothes and cough
And fume and curse it every time
It comes. It seems a crime
To say you love it when it snows—
Down in the town. Yet I suppose
They’re not to blame—it always brings
A peck of ills and heartache things
Down in the town. There’s such
A lot of misery—so much
That sleeps along until the touch
Of snow and cold wakes it again
To sudden pain.
You really can’t blame folks a bit
For hating snow and cursing it
The way they do
Down in the town—it’s natural to.
For townfolk always have a way
Of hating snow—they stamp it off
Their feet and shake their clothes and cough
And fume and curse it every time
It comes. It seems a crime
To say you love it when it snows—
Down in the town. Yet I suppose
They’re not to blame—it always brings
A peck of ills and heartache things
Down in the town. There’s such
A lot of misery—so much
That sleeps along until the touch
Of snow and cold wakes it again
To sudden pain.
You really can’t blame folks a bit
For hating snow and cursing it
The way they do
Down in the town—it’s natural to.
But here—up here, it’s driving white
Across the gray tree-trunks; all night
Across the gray tree-trunks; all night
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