Ice Age (on New York's impending "winter storm", March 5, 2001) O batten down the hatches, Restock the larder store, A winter storm is coming, The wolves are at the door. The polar bears are strolling Along Third Avenue. Migrating south before them go The trembling caribou! The walruses are amassing Upon the Jersey Shore. The arctic fox is foraging On frozen little paw. The Empire State is buried, Reduced to frozen waste, Manhattan is a tundra now So hurry home in haste. Send forth the mighty sandtrucks, Give warnings on TV, Close schools and church and offices In dire emergency. Cancel every engagement And into shelter flee. Watch for the wicked winter, Jack Frost is hunting thee! Now get a grip, New Yorkers. What are you, men or mice? You surely won't be daunted By a little snow and ice! The toughest city in the world? I have good cause to doubt! Just tuck yourself in heated blanket And nurse your creeping gout! This dire blizzard you so dread Is but a teacup storm, Last song of dying winter, No wonder Canadians scorn! What silliness and panic To render ye snowbound, The feeble flakes are melting Before they touch the ground! Have not you seen, have not you heard? Forecasters can be wrong. And even if they do hold fast, It shall not be for long. But go ensconce yourselves And at the wireless huddle, You call a hill a mountain, Make an ocean of a puddle! Perhaps you think I'm flippant Or you might say I'm glib, But this fierce tempest striking fear Is just one more damp squib! March 2001