Heikki Luunta
Finnish god of da snow,
Ya know?
He give da sixxy mile hour
Wins an’ da rain,
Dis onna saddiday night
Over to da Judge’s house
In Bev-ly Hills
(No Clampetts dere —I looked, eh?),
Da whole gang sippin’ single malts ta wet dere
whistles
while Norm played da skinny bag a pipes
Detroit, see --  da Frenchies called
It Da Narrows, eh,
Da way da winds could get it up
Coming down from noreas’,
Make da river music dose days.

Next we knew, da wind
She cuts da power from da houses
Number bout ooh, a same as da whole Yoop, eh?
(Dat’s a bunch!)
And dere we was in da trucks on slicky ice
Skatin’ along dem feel-ways
Ta Booby Kook’s
An’ time we got over dere,
Bobby had da gen-rater
Crankin’ like da snow-trower
An’ a fire in da fireplace,
Scotches sittin’ dere waitin’
For da buncha us
An’ Charlie, his dog
So glad to see ‘em
She’s rollin’ on da floor
Like da toy,
Givin’ him da fleabites,
{Nips eh, not breakin’ da skin},
And him gigglin’ like dis was fun.

Come daybreak Bobby had da old camp stove
In da house and hot,
 setting' up for
Rocky an’ Bullwinkle
McMuffins –
(Dat’s moose an’ squirrel
To you flatlanders),
Da squirrel cooked in some wine called
Spot-lazy an’ curry like dey use
In da Orient,
Muffins fried crisp,
Old style in da pan.

Cripes, I can tell yas, it was like campin’
Wit poachers up on da Garden
In April when da fish runs start
An’ da game wardens got ‘emselves
All inna tizzy we might
Grab and eye a little early!

Lufda, we’re dere for da Midwest Fly Show,
But da good show, she was over dere
At da Judge’s an Bobby’s & Charlie’s
In da dark
And dat’s da way she went, eh?