Some say the month’s less merry,—
“It’s very January,
The snow doth pile in ‘palling style,
The roads are clogged and boggy,
Or else not seen, cause foggy.
“All houses now are hidden,
Like gloomy ghosts forbidden;
The bushes clumped and dumpy,
Old housewives froze and grumpy.
It’s now grim January.”
But I say, It’s so icely,
With skaters skating nicely.
While snow doth pile in lofty style
Most roads are ploughed or ploughing,
And glad are cars a-growling.
All houses have white hats on
(Like Fred Astaire, let’s dance on!);
The bushes clothed so pretty,
And bright at night the city.
It’s very January!