BIG INDIAN NEW YORK WINTER POEM
It's winter in Big Indian
And the gentle breezes blow
Seventy miles an hour
At twenty five below.
Oh, how I Iove Big Indian
When the snow's up to your butt
You take a breath of winter
And your nose gets frozen shut.
Yes, the winter here is wonderful
So I guess I'll hang around
I could never leave Big Indian
'Cause I'm frozen to the ground
