The days are cold, the nights draw in
The air outside is getting thin
We close our doors and stay inside
From Mr Frost we surely hide.

But while we sit in front of fires
Old Jack Frost he never tires
Drawing pictures on the glass
He brings with him an icy blast.

How intricate are Jack’s designs
Diamonds, curves and fuzzy lines
Each place he calls a different show
How he does it, we just don’t know.

And soon the days are not so cold
We venture out now feeling bold
And in the ground the new shoots show
As plants wake up and start to grow.

Back to the North Pole Jack will go
To rest amongst the ice and snow
When the mercury begins to fall
He’ll come again as if he’s called.



Cold outside — well what do you expect!
It’s Winter and the mercury’s dropped
There’s snow on the way, kids wrap up and play
And there’ll be Snowmen soon on display.

There’ll be big ones and small ones and some wearing hats
Some wearing scarfs and some holding bats
To children they’re real and a friend for a while
Watching them play with them just makes us smile.

And then they are gone just as fast as they came
The cold days drag on but it won’t be the same
The kids play through Springtime, the Summer and Fall
But really they’re waiting for the Snowman to call.

He’s a magical presence that kids all adore
They play with him all through the day
He’s handsome and large and has only one flaw
He has to be gone by the end of the thaw.


For The Little Ones

If they stop and they listen
They can hear a small sound
But they have to listen closely
With their ears to the ground.

The sound that they hear is the ring of a bell
But only a young child is able to tell.

For as adults we’ve forgotten, we can’t hear the bell
Lost innocence from growing up drowns out the knell.

But innocence in children is a wonder and a bliss
And the ring of that bell we don’t want them to miss.

So when you see you a child with their ear to the ground
Chances are that they’re hearing that sweet ringing sound.


Santa’s Coming

Santa comes to bring great joy
For every little child a toy
He brings toy drums and skipping ropes
Pretty dolls, kaleidoscopes.
We leave him sherry and a mince pie
For him to eat as he goes by
And in the night as this takes place
At lots of windows, a little face
Too full of joy to sleep too well
They await the sound of the Jingling Bell.



The Circle of Life.

They run, they laugh, they skip, they climb, there activity stuns, everyday.
We watch, we smile, we enjoy, we play, we’re young again like they.
What a wonderful feeling playing games with grandchildren, they teach you as much as they learn.
We played with our children, and now our grandchildren, as the circle of life carries on.

The girl likes to climb, the boy likes to run, and they both do them both with such vigour.
They can be reading or not, but then they’re off like a shot, as if somebody just pulled a trigger.
They’re a joy, and so funny, as they grow, as they learn, and they question so much that they see.
It’s a task to embrace as you keep a straight face, as you answer them to their shouts of glee.

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