The manure's gone up, when it should have gone down, on the ground to help nourish the Spring.

The plants in the greenhouse are happy, they are inside all frost free and snug.

While we are out here in the cold and crisp air, with the holes and the trenches we've dug.

Gold fish look through icy clad windows, at a world caught in limbo and frost.

And a Robin reflects on his pipe cleaner legs, of a mate that he loved, but he'd lost.

With Hedgehog and Frogs in the compost, and Ladybirds taking a nap.

All sitting it out, till the world turns about, and the warmth of the sun turns the sap.

It's cold and expensive it's Christmas, and the season of goodwill they say.

Time for loving and giving, and dreaming of living on tropical lands far away.