A hibernator in another state
Awoke this morning, took a look around,
And had some time to duly contemplate
The varied light and shadows on the ground.
His inner instincts led him to believe
The opposite of what you might expect:
Those sunbeams brightly shining did deceive
And meant we’d have six weeks of winter yet.
We Yankees to his north and to his east
Don’t need a rodent’s nose or pair of eyes.
Prognostications don’t change in the least
Our seasonal existence compromise.
It really doesn’t matter what he claims;
Our snowplows will keep busy, all the same.