Despite the layers of clothing worn
Long johns, scarves and mitts,
Despite the rosy flesh and ears
From wintry wind’s harsh kiss,
Despite the mounds of roadside dirt
Where encrusted snow is knotted,
Despite each pole, the base of which,
Is brightly yellow dotted,
Despite the rising plumes of white
From frosty-face and sewer-bars,
Despite the clear blue skies above
with wind-chills straight from Mars,
February plays its part,
For each month has its story.
Canadians embrace them all,
And cherish each one’s glory.
Regardless of the cold alerts,
And broken water mains,
We’ll fish and skate and drive our cars,
With tires wrapped in chains.
“It’s merely winter in Canada”
We boast with pride and shout.
When really what we’re thinking is,
“Ten more days, then Feb. Get the F’n Hell Out!