Dingy
Cool
Whip
Clouds
Crowd
The
Sky
And
Solemnly
Pass
By,
The
Mountains
Their
Destination,
To
Scatter
Precipitation
In
The
Form
Of
Snow,
And
Give
Skiers
Somewhere
Fun
To
Go.
They’ll
Ride
Up
And
Slide
Down,
Then
Do
It
All
Again.
As
For
Me,
I’m
Not
So
Bold.
You’ll
See
That
I retire
To
The
Warm
Fire.
I’ve
No
Desire
To
Be
Cold.