Snonsense

I hear there is snow in old Blighty,
A calamity, Oh gawd almighty!
What will the Brits do
When their noses turn blue
As the Goddess of love Aphrodite

She was born of the sea, don’t you know
And ate cockles and winkles real slow
She relished each bite
To her lovers’ delight
A skill that she learned long ago

The moral of this old love tale
Is to snuggle up close in a gale
A few inches of snow
Even 30 below
Could ramp up your sexy fun scale