"Winter draw(er)s on!", as Ma used to say with a little chuckle at her 'joke', usually followed by this little verse from Grandma Hing's childhood in the 1870's, which sums up winter for me:
"By heck, it's cold! Cold as a frog in an ice-bound pool. Cold as the blade on an Eskimo's tool. Cold as charity, (and that's ruddy chilly). But not as cold as our poor Willie, He's dead, poor bugger!"
