I'd like to take some time to pander
To the hearty soul, the Michigander.
When winter comes I want to flee.
My neighbor folk are not like me.
They cheer the flurries stacked in feet,
They dream of ice and snow and sleet,
And when it seems too cold to go
They run outside and play in snow.
What is this bizarre predilection?
North by north is their direction.
Arctic cold is in their dreams.
They've lost their freaking minds it seems.
No comments:
Post a Comment