And as soon as sledding came on to stay
Jack got all work and he got no play.
For daily the ox-sleds creaked and crawked
Till the yard was full and the buck-saws talked.
’Twas rugged toil and we humped our backs,
But we scarce kept pace with dad’s big axe.
There were bitter mornings of “ten below,”
There were days of bluster and days of snow,
But with double mittens, a big wool scarf,
And coon-skin ear-laps, we used to laugh