How can the Midwinter feast be here,
So far from the middle of Winter,
When Autumn’s leaves are barely down,
And frost has yet to hit the town ?
How can the shortest day be near
So far from the chill of Winter ?
We feast on pudding by the wedge
Before we’ve eaten up our veg.
But wait…the snowdrops soon appear
In what was once still Winter –
If Advent sees the last of Fall,
Then Burns Night sees the Springtime call.
The thaw before the freeze each year
Will warm and squeeze the Winter –
We’ve brandy butter on our snouts
Before we’ve eaten up our sprouts.