listening to the radio

the day's a sort of magic time-machine
in which a host of memories appear
an ancient sort of dance perhaps beguine
appropriate for this chill time of year
outside the grey continues unrelieved
not shadows form on any of our walls
but somehow we know all undeceived
that we are on the path to fairy halls
let rain fall spirits will not be damped
nor ills and fevers reach us on this day
instead unease will be here firmly clamped
and there'll be time enough for fun and play
let us now in this fine moment pause
listen to the pleasant music give applause