This Winter: As Usual, Shakespeare Had It Right


When icicles hang by the wall



And Dick the shepherd blows his nail


And Tom bears logs into the hall


And milk comes frozen home in pail,


When blood is nipp'd and ways be foul,
When nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit;
Tu-who, a merry note,


While greasy Joan doth keel the pot,
When all aloud the wind doth blow
And coughing drowns the parson's saw
And birds sit brooding in the snow
And Marian's nose looks red and raw,
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
When nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit;
Tu-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

From Love's Labours Lost

Note: All right, the bird is a chickadee, not an owl, and it's a bad photo. But you get the idea.

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