The Polar Bear

The polar bear never makes his bed;

He sleeps on a cake of ice instead.

He has no blanket, no quilt, no sheet

Except the rain and snow and sleet.

He drifts about on a white ice floe

While cold winds howl and blizzards blow

And the temperature drops to forty below.

The polar bear never makes his bed;

The blanket he pulls up over his head

Is lined with soft and feathery snow.

If ever he rose and turned on the light,

He would find a world of bathtub white,

And icebergs floating through the night.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Thanks again D.A.M! You're one ina million Dude!

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