4There was a lonely mitten,
Who felt inclined to roam,
With valleys he was smitten,
And forests were his home.
Each owner that the mitten had,
Just lost him in a haze,
On many snowbanks he had napped,
On many winter days.
The mitten's mate was somewhere,
But nowhere to be found,
Though high and low he searched for her
O'er wet and soggy ground.
Through brambles and through blizzards,
He lurched from day till night,
Searching for his g-love mate,
Yearning for her sight.
On some far shore she must reside,
Away from stress and strain,
Snoozing all her days away,
In sunshine and in rain.