Father Winter

father winter puffs his cheecks and blows an icy blast
the freezing ghale that whistles round reminds me of the past
when winters chilled me to the bone and made me want my bed
my duckdown feather filled patchwork quilt pulled up arround my head
as i lay snug and all tucked up the wind played out its tune
like a howling banshee in a rage by the light of the silvery moon
the fire thats roaring in the grate joins in this wintery song
as it spits its flames from its blazing coals and the chimney sings along
the kettle hanging o'r the fire its steaming spout sings loud
its like the last night of the proms and im feeling oh so proud
this tune is like a blessing sent from angels way on high
as i lie their in my comfy bed all cosy warm and dry
now father winter ups the pace with a raging storm of snow
the village is caught in an icy grip and the childrens faces glow
they wrap up warm with scarves and hats and boots lined thick with fur
and pull their sledges up the hill in a windswept snowy blur
im peeping through my curtains at this freezing winter scene
the village looks all bright and white and cold and crisp and clean
father winters work is done he heads off home at last
but he cant resist and he puffs his cheecks for one last icy blast
                                                    BY LJM 15/12/2012