The clouds above are rumbling,
As if sleeping giants are snoring.
Rain drops are tinkling on the tin,
Just winking amidst all of the din.
The early December chill is sweet,
Soon there will not be a thing to eat.
All will freeze in the chilly breeze,
Ice age just has so much to please,
Recall it all what I told if you can.
Juxtaposed by mother nature is it,
Her most wicked chilly plan it is.