The shock of the snow

As older readers will know, I am an avid collector of motorway ballads. These are the long folk poems that have been composed and repeated by motorway travellers ever since the very earliest days of motorway travel, and, alas, very seldom written down. And at the weekend, after the legendary great frozen gridlock of the end of last week, I was lucky enough to be told this ballad by an ancient commercial traveller at South Mimms service station.

When Scott of the Antarctic

Lay freezing 'alf to death,

And crystals formed around him

Each time he took a breath,

He opened up his diary,

And this is what he wrote,

As the freezin' air got in his hair

And rattled in his throat:

"Oh, we have been to the Pole, we 'ave,

And nearly come back, too,

But none of the men is feeling well

And I've got a touch of 'flu.

And if we never make it,

And we meet our demise,

I'll tell you now – it was the snow

That took us by surprise."

Oh, yes, it's the same old story!

We never foresee it at all!

Though the skies go grey at the break of day,

We never think snow will fall!

They say we're never ready

When it comes to ice and snow,

But here's one Brit with a bit of grit,

Whatever fate may throw!

'Cos if the temperature should drop

And the icy winds should blow

From the Urals via Norway,

And bring untimely snow

To Lincolnshire and Norfolk,

And trap me in my car,

You won't find me a-moaning

And making a hoo-ha,

'Cos I've got central heating,

An electric curtain-rail,

A mini-bar and loads of food

To protect me from the gale!

For some may customise their cars

To make them twice as fast,

And some may paint on orange flames

That sneer as they roar past,

But I've adapted my saloon

To make a comfy ride.

It may be snow and ice out there

But it's party time inside!

Oh, when Mallory and Irvine

Went off up Everest,

They only took a pair of gloves

And an extra woolly vest.

They travelled light and climbed at night

To get there twice as fast,

But they had come to a standstill

Before much time had passed.

Said Mallory to Irvine:

"I cannot move my feet!"

Said Irvine back to Mallory,

"And nor can I, my sweet!"

Said Mallory to Irvine:

"I'm afraid we're frozen in."

Said Irvine: "And we're going to die.

Oh, well. Too bad. Chin-chin."

Yes, Mallory and Irvine

Had got the wrong supplies,

It was the snow that done for them

And took them by surprise.

But I can never be surprised

By what the weather brings,

'Cos my old car is full of food

And lots of tasty things.

I've got a little gas ring,

And a small electric loop,

On which I cook my supper

And heat my chicken soup.

Around me in the gridlock,

Along the frozen M,

I see them shivering in their cars

And I raise my glass to them.

They shake their fists in fury,

And hurl their insults back.

And I just smile and gently sip

My warming Armagnac.

Oh, they say we're never ready

For a bit of ice and snow,

But some of us will make no fuss

When it's 20 degrees below!

Old Stanley and old Livingstone,

They did get one thing right.

They went away to Africa,

Where it's nice and warm at night,

And never went to Everest,

Or anywhere with snow,

And did not make the least attempt

To convert the Eskimo.

It wasn't a bed of roses

For Speke and Mungo Park,

But you never heard them once

complain

Of freezing after dark.

"We may get beriberi

And the bloomin' tsetse fly,

But at least at night there's no frostbite

And the bedclothes stay quite dry!"

So here's a toast to those, like me,

Who are ready for the snow!

And if you're passing by my car,

Drop in and say hello!

There are many more verses to this ballad, but this excerpt gives you a good idea. It's soon to be included in the forthcoming collection 'The Golden Treasury of Motorway Verse'