The winter came, and now it's gone,
but I've still got my moon boots on.
I'm dreaming now although it's spring.
Next winter we'll go tobogganing.
It's the bomb.
It's the bomb.
It's the bomb.
It's the bomb.
It's the bomb.
It's the bomb. Bomb. Bomb.
Can you imagine the ecstasy?
Next year with snowfall comes the glee.
Flight down the slopes with legs in arms.
None can resist my snow-suited charms.
It's the bomb.
It's the bomb.
It's the bomb.
It's the bomb.
It's the bomb.
It's the bomb. Bomb. Bomb.

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