There are days that beat you black and blue,
Spin you around, then kick you in the knee,
Slam you to the ground with awful glee:
Those days are bad. But when they bring their crew,
And all of them do just the same to you
For weeks on end, you can no longer see
A point of rest or calm, but hopelessly
Keep on attempting to pretend you do.
This is Chicago winter, deep and harsh,
Unwilling to allow for human pain,
Turning the Midway to a soggy marsh,
Covered by the snow and freezing rain,
While we all wonder with increased vexation
Who thought this city fit for habitation?
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