♪The snow lay up against the curbFinally beaten by the sunAcross the street the noon whistle blewCalling back everyoneAnd they came out from the luncheonetteThe tavern and the pharmacyWalked across the wet street back to workTheir coats unbuttoned and talking easilyThe ice has cracked down the riverRolling out to the bayOn one floor rides a bob houseThere's always one that stays out too long they sayThere ain't much to mill workThe days just drag on and onThere ain't much to leaving homeTill you finally cut the cord and know you're goneAnd there ain't much to ice fishingTill you miss a day or moreAnd the haul you've cut freezes overAnd it's like you have never been there before♪♪