[Written while the author was a patient at the Maine State Sanatorium, Hebron, Me.]
There's danger that some of these gales Will lay this Cottage level— For every other day, at least, The wind blows like the ——— deuce. Should it occur, the chances are That all the fields and lawns From here down to "West Minot" will Be scattered o'er with "Cons." Then Dr. Garrison, Dr. Knowles And Dr. Nichols, too, Will have to search o 'er hill and dale To find which way we blew!— And all the nurses, too, will run As fast as e'er they can And help to bring "us patients" back To this gale-stricken San! Sure, if the wind strikes "Greenwood Hill" With such an awful boom We shall go sailing through the air Like Witches on a broom!— Whiz-Zip-Crash-Bang-Oh, Ugh!—My face Is full of whirling snow!!— It's blown the coverings off my bed!!!— Ah yes, "the winds do blow!"
