Winter, oh winter, oh how I hate thee,

Winter, oh winter, oh how I hate thee,

Why do these blasted cold winds hit me?

The people who live away, and with snow,

The boredom and misery, they'll never know.

Winter, oh winter, it's you that I hate,

The ice on my windshield makes me five minutes late.

When I write outside, you freeze up my pen,

You can't even let us make any snowmen.

When we're outside, we feel cold as ice,

So we all stay inside, especially the mice.

Winter, oh winter, oh how I hate thee,

Why must you do this, and torture me?