While eskimos sit in the snow They dream of heaven down below. You see, to the humble Inuit, The skys the really nasty bit. Full of cold and wind and hail It's what they dread when they are frail. It brings them colds and worse, the 'flu! It may sound silly, but it's true! To the wandering man of North The greatest wish that he'd bring forth Is to go deep down in the earth Where its jolly, full of mirth And warm.