Thrice the weatherman did bawl

of the approaching winter squall,

Run for shelter, get supplies

before the storm-clouds blot the skies.

Shovel, shovel, toil and trouble

make preparations on the double.

The tempest's here, huge flakes abound

clinging to hillside, tree and town,

Got some Halite, rock salt too

... but last year's shovel, it'll have to do.

Shovel, shovel, into war

layer up and out the door.

Starting out the walk I go

into the flurried falling snow,

Slip upon an icy patch

unsavory thoughts begin to hatch.

Shovel, shovel, toil and trouble

muscles burn and temper bubble.

Making progress, clear a path

in the midst of winter's wrath,

Check behind me with a quirk

the snow's re-covered all my work!

Shovel, shovel, there's no end

take a breath and start again.

Lift the shovel toss it thus

slip again... softly cuss,

Shovel catches near my shoe

I just found some doggie doo!

Shovel, shovel, toil and trouble

muscles burn and temper bubble.

Pushed the drifts back with a blush

chipped the ice, scooped the slush,

Walkways finished, driveway too

... in the sky's a patch of blue.

Shovel, shovel, rest a spell

a heating pad will do me well.

An hour later I'm worn out

this task has stolen all my clout,

I hear a rumbling, sounds quite queer

it's rather far but moving near.

By the tingling of my thumbs

something plowing this way comes!