A Climate Song By Kathryn Haughtelin Glance at the date on your date pad. It’s the only way to make clear That the month is now December. That Christmas is almost here. For Yuma’s brand of climate, There is only one thing to say In answer to Christmas Roll Call, “Private, First-Class. U. S. A. “ For now through the opened window. Floats the Wine wind of the West Traveling from Ocean t Ocean Of all the four winds of the best. It comes from the open desert Then down from the purple hills. Scattering along its pathway. Panacea for human ills. Why sing of our fertile valleys, That bring forth a harvest of grain Why boast of the golden treasures That lie in the mountain vein. More precious than gold or riches Is the nectared breath of the day, Tempered with magic sunshine That seldom goes far astray The air of the golden Springtime, We claim, when the world is fast In the throes of frozen winter Our days are unsurpassed Forgotten the days of summer, Its our turn with the Climate song To boost the Yuma climate When Old Winter comes along.
Posted on: Fri, 02 Jan 2015 02:19:38 +0000
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