I had a stove with spiral chimney.
Jiminy! It had a spiral chimney?
Yes. And when the smoke came out of it
it twisted 'round the clouds a bit.
I stoked my stove with birch wood dry
which cranked, I guess, a cloud up high.
And busy as all clouds should be,
this mist it must have noticed me.
For when I went to do my chores
this crazy cloud cuts loose and pours.
My clothes were froze so quick they cracked
and I was glued right in my tracks.
My wife speed dialed nine-one-one
a fire truck was first to come.
The chief he knew just what to do
and stuck his hose right down my flue.
The cloud, it clapped, and zapped me twice
which vaporized the friggin' ice.
Then swift my buns in hot retreat
and in the stove threw incense sweet.
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