Winter, you've quite forgotten us entirely,
You used to love playing snowballs with the children so keenly!
And the sledges that whizz down the hill like an arrow ―
Have you really forgotten all of it, then?
At New Year you burst into tears,
Nothing but puddles, whatever next, I fear?
Shall we pop off to a snow doctor, perhaps?
Just say the word, and I'll foot the bill, chaps!
I saved my pocket money in my piggy bank for ages,
But I'm sick of this crust of ice, it's enough to make me rage!
You know they won't let me out to play again,
I sit here moping, like dew on a cabbage, that's plain.
Outside it's wet snow, then rain, then ice,
Simply horrid out there, and slippery as ice, not nice!
I'm bored all half-term on my own,
Now I've got a runny nose, too, lording it on its own!
The GP said yesterday it will all pass,
Just a couple more days and the bug will be gone at last.
Winter, then I thought about this too,
That we sometimes drink our cough mixture for good reason, through and through.
And you, it seems, have fallen quite ill,
You're sulking again, and that won't do, will it?
Perhaps you're scared of the jabs, I've heard tell,
And that's why you've stayed indoors, as well?
Shall I come along with you to the surgery, shall I?
I'm a brave lad, and I'm not joking, I'll tell you why!
Because you've quite forgotten
How much you loved snowball fights, so I'm not mistaken,
That you loved the snowy blizzards, and the flurries so bright,
Not the spring drips from the gutters in the grey daylight.
Come on then, winter, do hurry back to us,
Don't mope, enjoy this tale, don't make a fuss!
Well, that's it, I'm putting a full stop here
And I'm eagerly awaiting a reply, just a line, my dear:
«Off I go, and I'm no longer poorly!»
That you'll soon be better, I'm sure of it, surely.
