Winter winds were round us snorting, for a weary while; now that Spring’s this way cavorting, we should wear a smile.
Tempests, storms and kindred friskers lashed us with a whip, froze our noses and our whiskers, gave us all the grip.
Nights were cold and days were freezing, cheerless was the sky; we were coughing, whooping, sneezing, till we wished to die.
Now the winter’s quit its prancing, it’s an also ran; and the gentle Spring, advancing, should encourage man.
When the north winds, blood congealers, ripped along the earth, ’tisn’t strange if lumber dealers strangers were to mirth.
For there was no rush or clamor in the building trade; and the rusty saw and hammer on the shelf were laid.
But, since balmy spring is coming, and old winter’s canned, sounds of building will be humming over all the land.
When the skies are blue and sunny, and the birdlets sing, people will be spending money, as they do each spring.
They’ll be building gorgeous houses, all along the pike, shelter for their steeds and cowses, fences and the like.
So let glee and mellow laughter fill your lumber store, as you hand out joist and rafter, scantling, sash and door.