The word’s been spread, Spring. You’re comin’ early this year.
Please don’t disappoint us, the winter nights are dark and dreary,
The snow’s piled up. The air is cold as ice, there is no relief in
Sight. Gather up your sunshine, and from the winter, set us
O’ I love New England’s seasons and the changes that they
It’s just that sometimes one might linger a bit too long.
Lord, I’m not complaining, this is sort of an observation,
Just from me. I’ll slip off me boots, and join the throng.
Wait now, the so called throng has disappeared, they are long gone,
To climates with no cold. They are not of New England stock
And abhor our winters with it’s snow and cold and ice;
O’ no, It’s martinis or such, and sun-bathe on the dock.
What is that you are absorbed in reading dear, travel, sunny shores?
My companion’s deep in thought, now she’s checking maps.
My heart takes a lurch, o’ no, the writings on the wall.
We are going on a trip, where is my driving cap?
I fear we are going from New England to a sunnier, warmer
Of course, I cast my doubts to her and talk New England up
Shouldn’t you show some consideration for me? I said.
Oh, I am, you’ve been tired lately. Think of me!
Copyright © 2011 Charles E. Frost
March 12, 2011