White St. Patrick's Day, (to be sung to a familiar tune)
~Rebecca Ryskind Teti
~Rebecca Ryskind Teti
Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are frozen,
From end to end and down the whole northside;
St. Patrick’s snow is not what I’d have chosen
-And truth be told, I hardly can abide.
Oh, take it back, Canadians, take your we-ea-ther,
Cuz now the Beltway’s hushed and white with snow;
And I’m stuck here, with children hell-for-leather,
Running inside, with no place else to go.
And in the garden, daffodils are dying,
Coaxed out for Spring, which came and quickly fled.
Go out and see the place where they are lying,
And kneel and build a snowman there instead.
And still I know, or hope, that Spring is coming.
Snow angels must give way to greening grass.
We’ll tread once more on ground that’s not foot-numbing,
And grouse that Summer’s heat’s a pain in the ass.
