All Apologies to Betjers (When short of ideas, recycle)

Come friendly snow and fall on Toronto!
It isn’t fit for humans now,
There isn’t grass to graze a cow.
Swarm over, Blizzard!

Come, snow and blanket Toronto with invisibility
Those air -conditioned, bright canteens,
Tinned fruit, tinned meat, tinned milk, tinned beans,
Tinned minds, tinned breath.

Mess up the mess they call a town-
A condo for ninety-seven k Canadian down
And once a week a half a loonie, worth US$10.4
For two thousand years years.

And get that man with double chin
Who’ll always cheat and always win,
Who washes his repulsive skin
In women’s tears:

And smash his desk of polished oak
And smash his hands so used to stroke
And stop his boring dirty joke
And make him yell.

But spare the bald young clerks who add
The profits of the stinking cad;
It’s not their fault that they are mad,
They’ve tasted Hell.

It’s not their fault they do not know
The birdsong from the radio,
It’s not their fault they often go
To Buffalo to shop.

And talk of sport and makes of cars
In various bogus-English Pubs And daren’t look up and see the stars
But belch instead.

In labour-saving homes, with care
They frizz their dogs with peroxide hair
And dry it in synthetic air
And paint their nails.

Come, friendly snow and whitewash TO
To get it ready for the plough.
The cabbages are coming now;
The earth exhales.