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In Florida, we have to guess....
When seasons stop and start....
Though each is individual....
They’re hard to tell apart....
One blends into the other but....
We know when winter’s out....
The robins all start leaving and....
The blossoms start to sprout....
And I can tell when fall is done....
The nights are short and cool....
And springtime’s done the day we head....
For beaches or the pool....
My air conditioner tells me when....
The summer turns to fall....
The man whose job is fixing them....
Has just returned my call....
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