Ma, get Elsie into the barn, there's a storm comin; and it's gonna be wicked bad
/A snow storm’s coming in — a genyuwine blizzard Down East, what with 50 mph winds and such, so I hope you’ve done your shopping. Over the years, Pal Nancy and I never got over our amusement at the Greenwich housewife’s panic shopping before snowstorms because, for some reason, they always loaded up on milk — gallons and gallons of milk. Do they think that the stuff’s going to freeze in Bossie’s teats?
And why, for the love of Saint Peter, 6 dozen eggs? That’s an udder story.