THE FIRST SNOW STORM
The very first snow of the year, Mama,
And the drifts must be ten feet high;
So I’ve come home to get dry, Mama,
And this is the reason why:
We were on our way from school, Mama,
Betty and Margie and Nan,
When someone gave us a terrible push
And into a drift we ran.
And we sat down in the snow, Mama,
It wasn’t as cold as you’d think;
And we thought we would sit for a while, Mama.
And we did, till we grew quite pink.
I feel that my shoes are wet, Mama,
And I fear the same for my hose:
And I fancy I’m rather damp, Mama,
Around in my underclothes.