When Winter ‘just happens’ one weekend
It leaves a five month hangover.
And the Monday morning wind
Says, “It’s time for longjohns.”
When Winter ‘just happens’ one weekend
It leaves a five month hangover.
And the Monday morning wind
Says, “It’s time for longjohns.”
Thanks for the poem, but didn’t you ever hear your grandma P talk about living in the land of “ten months’ winter and two months’ poor sledding?”
As for longjohns, here in Saskabush those are doughnuts that we ice and sprinkle with roasted cocoanut.
Yeah, we also wear them except when the icing gets so warm that it runs down our legs.