Jack Frost’s Low Blow
Jack Frost nibbled at my fingers
And he froze my toes
He put rouge on both of my cheeks
And blusher on my nose
He spread ice crystals through my hair
And on my eye brows too
He froze my moustache to my beard
So I can’t talk to you
That’s why I’m writing in the snow
With this here pointed stick
And keeping clear of hills so that…
I don’t go downhill quick
This ground so crisp and even
With no slopes to slip and slide
Seemed a really safe place till…
I spied the thing I spied
For when you gaze upon the ground
You might see the odd crack
But what you don’t expect to see
Is fishes looking back
It didn’t take too long a while
To work out my mistake
This little patch of terra firma
Is a frozen lake
I pulled apart moustache and beard
And shouted to my mate
I haven’t done it in a while…
I’m gonna try to skate
I got a decent distance
A manoeuvre that was rash
A fish leapt from the water and
It came down with a splash
I tried to turn but had no grip
So headed for that hole
And I beseeched the weather Gods
To save my frozen soul
And as I reached the ice free hole
I prayed my life to keep
But I found myself standing
For the lake was two feet deep.
So Jack Frost sent me paddling
And I’m frozen to the bone
I need a nice warm change of clothes
And so I grabbed my phone
Pretty soon my wife arrived
And briefly I was bare
My wife said, “Jack Frost; he’s a one,
To have bitten you right there.”
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