Нет, я не Байрон (с)

[tatikus]

И  не Сильвия Платт. И даже не Роберт Фрост. Но руки чешутся.

The longest night
The shortest day
I wish the snow
Was here to stay
Too ephemeral
And too fast
Too quick to fall
Too thin to last
But for a night
Or for a day
Then turns to slush
And melts away
And this disgusting
Brown shite
Is what we get
For Christmas tide