It roars through the branches of tall swaying trees
And swoops down your neck till your nether lands freeze.
The chills make you reach for your mittens and long johns
But still, you turn blue like a nude in the Yukon.
You don scarves and ski masks, fur parkas and ear muffs,
Then shoehorn your feet into thick fuzzy mukluks;
The trembling won’t stop! ‘Cause there’s no place to hide
When the winter wind‘s swirling and you’re stuck outside.
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