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.”