April in Paris

The sea lies solid under ice,
The blizzard seldom stops;
The glögi's running freely
In friendly coffee-shops;
The trams still run and life goes on
And still I can't remember
Why no-one ever calls a song
"Helsinki in November".

(it's actually far more like this in December, so maybe I should make that the month; but then you'd all know that I was employing poetic licence. February even more, but then it wouldn't rhyme.)