The Honorable Grosvenor Groundhog
Was wrapped in his winter dream
When an uneasy feeling assailed him
That bothered his sleeping regime.
He opened one eye to the murky gloom
And he twitched a drowsy-head ear;
He sniffed a wee bit and he listened,
But not a sound could he hear.
Then his left hind toe gave a wiggle,
And he slowly rose from his bed.
“There’s something a-stirring! I feel it!
I’m sure of it,” Grosvenor said.
So he shuffled off to his staircase
That led to the world above,
And climbed to the top, and yawning,
Gave his stout trapdoor a shove.
He stepped out in the coolness;
He tingled with crisp fresh air;
And he plodded about in the sunshine
Squinting at things here and there.
He lifted a paw to test the breeze,
Then he twitched his nose in mirth.
“It’s only that rascally Spring,” he said,
“Impatient to take over earth.
“But the light is so bright
That my shadow I see—
And that test of brightness
Is too much for me.
I’m going back to my snoozing again,
To my snug bed down below.
I’ll pretend that the world above me
Is still covered with cold and snow.
Then Spring will step softly
For forty-two days
In respect for tradition
And groundhog ways.”