Monsignor's cat...  baby, it's cold outside..!

Monsignor's Cat

facing a

New Brunswick winter!

When it's wintertime in New Brunswick
The gentle breezes blow,
About seventy kilometers an hour
And it's fifty-two below.

You can tell you're in New Brunswick,
'Cause the snow's up to your butt,
And you take a breath of winter air
And your nose holes both freeze shut.

The weather here is wonderful,
So I guess I'll hang around;
I could never leave New Brunswick now,
My feet are frozen to the ground.

We Three Cats of Orient Are

Christmas