It’s snowing heavily here, and we’re stuck in.

It’s much to early to open the gin.

Lyn’s in her studio, I’m in here

Where snow once aroused joy now I feel fear

I slip and slide so much in my chair

I definitely don’t want to go out there.

So I’ll just stay here, where it’s warm

Perhaps Skype my parents, still where I was born.

We’ll talk about days when I was young

We went out in the snow, me clinging on to mum.

For although the snow may look pretty

For us wobbly crips, it can be quite dangerous.