Tongue in cheek br My hands are red and chapped and sore br Because the winter wind doth blow. br My body, frozen to the core, br As down my neck drips melting snow. br My feet I stampto bring some life br To toes too cold for for me to feel. br A blast, the cliched whetted knife, br Chills my whole being, crown to heel. br Is there no refuge from this cold br That minds and souls and bodies numb? br Maybe it's just I'm feeling old, br But, Come, Oh Global Warming, Come.