• As a child I'd shout with glee
    as the whiteness shrouded trees,
    but the shoveling was my father's lot, not mine.
    Down the hills I'd sled with joy,
    Yes, the snow was just my toy,
    and if school was closed then that'd suit me fine.

    I could never understand
    Father's frown at the white land,
    for me it was the biggest treat by far,
    No matter how much of the stuff,
    I'd never get enough,
    but my father's job was digging out the car.

    Now when snow begins to fall
    there's a voice inside that calls,
    Come on and build a snowman out of me.
    But the adult in me swears,
    'I must shovel off the stairs.
    and my aching back is tired, don't you see?

    Oh, I never thought I'd say
    Oh No!' to snow
    But, yes, it's true, I'd rather stay in bed.
    And it keeps going through my mind
    growing up might be defined
    as the time when shovel must replace the sled.