The winter chill has long set in
The warmth of spring seems fleeting
But hundreds gather cold to the skin
For the Groundhog's yearly greeting

With hats and scarves and mitts of wool
We eagerly await his coming
Hot chocolate keeps our tummies full
But our toes are quickly numbing

It's a cloudy day, no shadows around
The sun is still in hiding
The crowd sits still, there's not a sound
We patiently wait for his tidings

At last his nose appears at the door
His whiskers poking through
We all know what we're waiting for
An early spring, and skies of blue

He whispers something, we cannot hear
But he's gone as quick as a sprinter
To the back of his den he disappears
It's six more weeks of winter