JACK FROST'S OVERTIME
Jack gave the air a biting chill
the ground a thin white shroud
while icy mist curled in tendrils
and swathed his form in clouds
then puddles turned to milky glass
his breath, it's said, could freeze
the paths he makes a risk to pass
and skeletons from trees
on TV news this work he’d do
was clearly advertised
as weather maps from green to blue
were reacclimatised
all signs of warmth Jack Frost suppressed
with every step he’d take
each living soul he met he pressed
to shiver and to shake
all thumbs would then succumb to numb
and feet were primed to slip
like taps he made their noses run
and tremble would each lip
but soon enough the rising sun
would make it’s presence felt
then Jack would yawn, his work all done
and back to bed he’d melt
but that was then and this is now
his tenure will not cease
the price of gas will now allow
his hours to increase
not one to shirk the extra work
thanks to this corporate crime
these costs berserk present a perk
for Jack in overtime
he'll rap the door of old and poor
once their heat is denied
and freeze for sure to chair or floor
whoever lives inside.
Probably the best poem about Jack Frost you'll read today.
Unless you've read another.