SJ Rozan

 

The world has ice, the world has snow,

But in our hearts, New Yorkers know

That when our snow is really lush

We next will have our magic slush.

 

When blocked-up drain makes sudden lake

Into which you plunge each step you take,

When just the slightest passing push

Slides you down right into the mush,

 

When taxis splash your pants all wet

Real New Yorkers never fret.

We do not fear the mugger’s cosh:

They don’t come out into the slosh.

 

Un-picked-up dog poop is froze;

You stay parked whichever side you chose;

As long as you’ve got bags of cash

You’ll score Hamilton tickets in a flash.

 

So celebrate these happy times

And do not wish for milder climes.

You do not need to find a cush–

ion for your tender tush.

 

Just grab a walker’s multi-leash

And do not stop when he says, “Sheesh!”

And now, with dogs since you are flush,

Order your new team to “Mush!”

Ten thousand steps you soon will crush

As you traverse our New York slush.