♪
The snow lay up against the curb
Finally beaten by the sun
Across the street the noon whistle blew
Calling back everyone
And they came out from the luncheonette
The tavern and the pharmacy
Walked across the wet street back to work
Their coats unbuttoned and talking easily
The ice has cracked down the river
Rolling out to the bay
On one floor rides a bob house
There's always one that stays out too long they say
There ain't much to mill work
The days just drag on and on
There ain't much to leaving home
Till you finally cut the cord and know you're gone
And there ain't much to ice fishing
Till you miss a day or more
And the haul you've cut freezes over
And it's like you have never been there before
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