Jonas Swallowed the East in a Whale of a Lot of Snow


You Can’t Run, But You Can Hide

Last week, when de weater toined rott’n,
De East Coast with snow was besott’n;
                But no doubt—mark my woid—
                Soon’s from Spring dey have hoid
It’ll all be forgived and forgott’n.

                                                          —Jo Nasymous