January brings the snow,

Hackett's Crevasse, hello, hello.

Prestissimo this deadly jaw,

The undersides of trucks does gnaw.

In February town morale,

Gets boosted by a carnival,

But this year we saw a dud,

'twas known to some as Fun-in-Mud

By frozen March, Hackett's Crevasse

Has grown so wide we scarce can pass,

And this month - another death,

The infant Book Group draws last breath.

In April, Earth Day comes and goes,

And Freezer Royce is on his toes

To fix his crusher's bugaboo,

And cube his stock by '92.

In merry May the blackflies come,

On Main Street, Beth's horse helps them some,

While kids on bikes from sidewalks flee,

For fear of dangling from a tree.

In June, ye mongrel hordes beware,

And trot near Fitchy if ye dare,

He seeks a thousand dogs to axe,

Their owners have not paid the tax.

A damp July lures trucks and Bud,

To battle with the Ten Rod mud.

The cops say "Guys, you're out of place,"

And prompted the rhyme of Chevy Chase.

A circus is the Hay Day theme,

When August comes around full steam,

But half a foot of rain (what luck),

Could make the theme next year a duck.

In September, wiffleballers,

Kill a bush mid hoots and hollers.

And school-wise, is the worst offense,

A sidestep slide down consequence?

One book reviewer in October,

Is a Cocheco dolphin prober,

And after feisty site review,

Two trees outwit the town road crew,

November's proletariat,

Hears of a dreaded killer cat

That maketh Wrinkle Circle twitch,

And small dogs quake, and vets quite rich.

Then snow and ice come with December,

Though scarce as bad as folks remember.

Now please forgive more road crew flak,

But Hackett's Vile Crevasse - it's baaaack

So drink a toast to '91,

To Clarkie, Roger, Royce and John,

To Beth and Beulah, Betty, Pat,

And Farmtown the Magnificat.