JACK FROST.
Jack Frost, he is with us again;
He comes every winter, you know:
But we're hardy and bold,
And we don't mind the cold,
And we welcome the ice and the snow.
Jack Frost plays a rough sort of game
With the children wherever he goes:
He pinches their cheeks;
Their noses he tweaks;
And he treads on their ten little toes.
Jack Frost makes the ground rather hard:
But with thick boots we clatter about;
And we run till our breath
Puffs away like a wreath
Of white steam from the teakettle's spout.
Jack Frost lays his hand on the pond,
And turns it to glittering ice;
Then the skaters they glide,
And the sliders they slide:
Think of that, Charley; isn't it nice!
Jack Frost, he is sure to be found
Where the sleigh-bells are tinkling clear;
As the horses, so strong,
Canter gayly along,
While the lads give a shout and a cheer.
Jack Frost, then, you're welcome again;
Of pleasures you bring us a store:
But be mild as you can,
Oh, you fierce little man!
When you visit the feeble and poor.
George Bennett.
