57.Barrington Snow

From the typically English to the typically Australian. Our winters are brief and, by the standards of other countries, merely cool. But we do get Cold Spells and, today, we're enduring one. The trouble is that Australia isn't geared to cold weather, and we're not acclimatised to it, so we're moaning like mad today, when the temperature is about 16 C / 62 F. In my teaching days the words on everyones' lips were 'It must be snowing on Barrington Tops'. The children, in a barely heated classroom, used to have to blow on their fingers before work could begin! So I wrote this little song about the weather. I hope it works as a lighthearted poem too. My remark about 'the Snowy' refers to the snowfields of the Snowy Mountains; these are favourite venues for the school holidays.

(Find out more about the beauties of Barrington Tops on my Clickpicks page.)

BARRINGTON SNOW

Here, in the 'Promised Land', we dont get too much snow,
And none at all, here, by the sea, where the land is low.
But there's a place not far away where snow quite often drops,
And then we shiver and we say 'There's snow on Barrington Tops!'

When it's snowing on Barrington Tops
And the sky is all covered with grey,
Then we feel how the temperature drops
And we're in for a cold winter's day.
With jumper on jumper
We look a bit plumper,
But that doesn't matter at all.
We find life is sweeter
Up close to the heater
When Jack Frost is coming to call.

When it's snowing on Barrington Tops
And the wind is as sharp as a knife,
Then we find that the sunbaking stops
And we look for a cosier life.
With sweater on sweater
We feel a lot better!
They keep all the chillies away.
With wooly on wooly,
We understand, fully,
That padding keeps Jack Frost at bay.

Rosy rosy;
Little red nosy!
Maybe a sniff or a sneeze.
Cosy cosy;
Little warm toesy!
Sharp, stinging raindrops, that fly on the breeze.
Cuddle cuddle;
All of a huddle!
Under the doona we go!
Blowy blowy;
Off to the Snowy;
All of a'glitter and all of a'glow.

When it's snowing on Barrington Tops
And our breath seems to hang on the air,
We'll be found in the well-heated shops,
For we know that there's cosiness there.
With mittens on mittens,
We're warmer than kittens,
And winter is not here to stay.
Spring, you remember,
Arrives in September,
And Jack Frost will vanish away.