Blizzard '77 Poem by Christopher Talon

The winter storm has reared its ugly head,
The clouds rolled in and turned the day to night,
Nineteen seventy-seven, saw twenty-nine dead,
January all dressed in satin white.

The people trapped in homes await their fate,
Their cars and homes buried deep in the snow,
The crews were sent before it was too late,
The final hour resounded by the crow.

Heroic welcome only hero's see,
Their faces stained with fright and hidden joy,
Even though memory fades, there will be,
Strong valour in our hearts you shan't destroy.

I was one year old, but I remember when,
It was the worst storm there has ever been.