Chicken Soup With Rice Testo

In January it's so nice while slipping on the sliding iceto sip on chicken soup with rice, sipping once, sipping twice.
In February it will be my snowman's anniversary
with cake for him and soup for me,
cake for him and soup for me.
In March the wind blows down my door
and spills the soup on the floor.
It laps it up and roars for more, laps it up and roars for more.
In April I will go away to faroff Spain or old Bombay
and dream about soup all day, dream about soup all day.
In May I truly think it best to be a robin,
lightly dressed concocting soup inside my nest,
concocting soup inside my nest.
In June I saw a charming group of roses,
begin to droop I pept them up with chicken soup,
I pept them up with chicken soup.