"A PROFESY
Now don't look so gay
For it isn't much fun
When you've shoveled all day
And can't see what you've done.
And don't sit and stare
At the ground that's now bare;
Some day there'll be snow,
Ask Raphie-she'll know !
It will sift thru the rifts
Round the windows and door,
And pile up huge drifts
As it has done oft before.
You'll start for the barn
Then turn to go back,
This sounds like a yarn,
But you can't see your track;
for the wind-how it blows !
Ask Raphie-she knows !
It comes light as a feather,
Or as heavy as lead;
It doesn't care whether
You're up or abed.
It comes with a roar
That will rattle the door,
And you'll wake with a start
In the dead of the night;
Then you'll know in your heart
That Raphie was right.
When you've piled the banks high
And are weary and sore,
And you glance at the sky
And know there'll be more,
Or the plow with its blade
Rolls part of its load
In the path you've just made
Down by the road;
'Twill hurt you a bit
As you sit down to rest,
but you'll have to admit
That Raphie knew best.
Nettie A. Bullis
May 15, 1948"