The Gun
I’d like some pretty with my cold. This winter is already old And not a frost, and not a flake Has twinkled on our town to break The nithering monotony Of January by the sea. The days are grey, the mood is low; We haven’t had our share of snow. No-one wants to walk the Orme, Dull without a winter storm. I wish that I could find a way To brighten everybody’s day! I’d love to have the magic gun That makes a blizzard in the sun That showers ice on everyone! I’d love to point the cannon high And fill the January sky With dancing flakes that float and fly! My gun would freeze the salty air And frost would sparkle everywhere, Flashing diamonds through the waves, Dazzling crystal in the caves; Our beach an arc of shining snow In winds that make our faces glow. We’d walk beneath the frosted trees Tinkling like piano keys Under the fingers of the breeze, And everyone would smile and say As happy people crowd the bay, ‘What a glorious Winter’s day! We need some pretty with our cold To charm the young and cheer the old; Gardens white as wedding cake, Skaters out on every lake, A frost-fair on the glassy sea - So bring my magic gun to me! |