February 03, 2014

Return of Rob. Frost's Bratty Little Sister

Watching the snow swirl outside the window of her home office today, the Blog Princess was reminded of this blast from the past:

Whose job is this? I think I know.
My aching back is screaming, though;
As abs not flexed for many a year
Are tortured by the mounting snow.

The frozen tundra's almost clear
As through the drifting flakes I peer
I'm tempted to postpone the rest
To step inside, and have a beer.

My mighty shovel does its best
To carve neat swaths at my behest
But buried decks and frozen stairs
Begin to seem a hopeless quest.

The snow is lovely, silent, deep.
It drifts in mountains, chill and steep
My weiner dog's ass-deep in snow
I wish he'd hurry up and go.
I wish he'd hurry up and go.

Hopefully the Princess has not already re-posted this. Still applies.

Posted by Cassandra at 05:16 PM | Comments (9) | TrackBack