With rosy, red cheeks,
Muffler wrapped tight,
On my Red Ryder sled,
I scream with delight.
Fresh snow packed deep on the hill,
Sled riding down...Oh! What a thrill.
Heavy snow building up on the ground,
Parents watching,
While their children slide down.
Trip after trip,
They fly down the hill,
Laughter abounds,
In winters cold chill.
Always a snowball fight,
During part of the day,
Romping and playing,
Until the dark of night.
They pull their sleds home,
With eyes burning bright,
A steaming hot chocolate,
Warms bellies at night.
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