Bucklin Weekly Bulletin, August 11, 1892


Back ward, turn backward, oh time in thy flight; give us a frost again just for tonight.  I am so weary of weather so hot, the sweat it produces would fill a big pot; weary of collars that wilt like a rag, weary of toiling away from the swag.  A storm or a blizzard would go very nice, "put me on ice, mother, put me on ice."

Go sit upon ice, brother, sit upon ice, and the sensation you feel won't be very nice, the itching and stinging, will make you feel lost, and then you'll not sigh for the blizzard or frost.  The water will trickle down to your feet, and make you gasp heat, mother, give me some heat.


Contributed by ~Shirley Brier~ October 7, 2005.