This poem appeared in the Journal in December 1928. Editor R.D. Cumming attributed it to a local school girl or boy, but did not know the name of the writer. The identity of the author has been lost to history, but their words live on.
Dad says that winter’s here for good—
“Go, fill the woodbox full of wood.
And see the coal is all brought in;
Are there potatoes in the bin?
“Haven’t you swept that snow up yet?
You’d better do it quick, you bet;
And chip that ice from off the path:
Now you move fast and dodge this lath.”
And so it goes, when winter’s here,
Snow is bright and Christmas near;
And everybody’s feeling good;
And you keep splitting up more wood.
But, oh! The other side of it—
Skates, sleighs and mufflers, big warm mitts,
Hockey, snowballs, skating, coasting;
Each and every fellow boasting:
“Look how far MY sleigh will go!
I don’t care if north winds blow—”
Parties, shows and Christmas cheer:
Oh boy! At last, old winter’s here.