Twelfth of March

There, in the western sky, is a cloud
Now it’s hiding the sun, now it shows it again;
Up above is another and it’s crying out loud:
Just some powdered snow and the rest is rain.

It’s the story of life that we breathe everyday,
Breaking hearts every minute by the words that we say;
As the nation gets dunked in the madness of March,
I’ll just sit here waiting for the flowers of May.

There, to the west, where the sun climbs high
There’s a cloud in the east that’s about to cry:
Just some powdered snow and the rest is rain
To a sap like me who feels my pain.

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