sbow flurries

Who remembers Bosco or Ovaltine?
Who cares to drink hot chocolate now?
I do, I do screams the little boy in drag.
He will he will his sister agrees.
Put some brandy in it!
Too young this queen, too young.
She wines and dines and throws a curve.
Do not trouble yourselves or humble me.
The troubadours are violent blowers
Their horns are pointy and piercing.
Come to us now Lancelot of Camelot.
Come to us now you devilish knight.
Ride that steed so virulently ride her.
The pony express of medieval times.
Deliver your goods and be glad,
For the spring of your twilight draws near.
The winter of the summer draws near.