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.
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