Now that it's getting cold I thought I'd post a little poem I've written.
Winter in a VW Bus
Not a month after Christmas and all cross the land, bus owners are driving with ice scrapers in hand.
They're scraping without and they're scraping within, to see where they're going and where they've just been.
With a little warm air that passes for heat, we lose feeling in our fingers, our ears and our feet .
So we put on our hats, our gloves, and more sox, endure the cold weather in our German icebox.
Winter is long and it's cold and it's dark, but these buses we drive have a place in our heart
Without a complaint or hardly a care, we wait for warm weather, summer to bear.
Winter in a VW Bus
Not a month after Christmas and all cross the land, bus owners are driving with ice scrapers in hand.
They're scraping without and they're scraping within, to see where they're going and where they've just been.
With a little warm air that passes for heat, we lose feeling in our fingers, our ears and our feet .
So we put on our hats, our gloves, and more sox, endure the cold weather in our German icebox.
Winter is long and it's cold and it's dark, but these buses we drive have a place in our heart
Without a complaint or hardly a care, we wait for warm weather, summer to bear.