The angry season marches in
Lockstep, goosestep, in unison
To force it’s will and have it’s way
Attack and kill the warm and sultry breeze,
To chase away all dog-day dreams,
Living things will surely feel the pain,
A Robin flees, a cold harsh breeze,
Just bare and leaveless trees remain,
The geese in tight formation fly away,
And summer’s gone
And summer’s gone
Like Satan’s breath,
The winter here to stay
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