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.