Monday, December 8, 2014

I'll Be Tip-Toeing Through the Tree Tops

It's cold,
I'm cold, 
She's cold, 
They're cold.

So there are no flowers,
No sparkling sunny towers.
No warm sandy beaches,
No ice tea filled with peaches.
So there are no blooms,
No pink Plumes.
No honeymoons.

It's cold!
Buy a coat.
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