Ice floes aplenty upon oceans of yore. Glaciers, there's a'many; some are at your door. Temp'ture's a'droppin'; freezin' winds a'blowin'. Destruction! There's no stoppin' what nature is bestowin'. "An ice age," they say, "is sweepin' 'cross the land. Can't we find a way to belay these frozen strands?" "Where's those greenhouse gases?" is the public shrill. "Purloined by the asses atop ole Cap'tol Hill." Good advice forsaken in times for which I yearn led to actions taken and bade the tables turn.