On Tuesday we woke to eight inches of snow,
Or maybe 'twas sixteen, or three—
Hard tellin' exactly, because of the blow,
Though really I oughtta be thankful, I know,
That in spite of the wind, I could SEE
All the snow drifting under the tree.
But this isn't REAL snow, anyway, nossir—
It's only that fake, lake effect,
So the towns where the lakes are a little bit closer,
When the lake effect hits, get a much bigger dose o' 'er,
In a pummeling much more direct
Those poor suckers have come to expect.
Warsaw, I heard, got two feet of the stuff,
And other locales close to that.
But though clearing the roadways of all of that fluff
Was probably more than a little bit tough,
The crews have the system down pat:
Not a school closed anywhereat.
Ordinarily, first major snow of the season
Takes everyone quite by surprise
And everything closes for no other reason
Than everyone's shiverin' and everyone's freezin',
And need to acclima-ta-tize.
At least, that's what I surmise.
But having the first major snowfall occur
When the winter's already half shot
Caught them so off their guard—I can only infer—
That their minds must have been like the air—a big blur—
They didn't know which end was what,
And I think that they simply forgot.
—Asnow A. Mouse