O the throat of winter is upon us 

The barren barley fields refuse to sway 

Before the Husky hag of early darkness 

In her hoods of snowy grey. 



Winter winter winter 

Are you but a servant of the bad one. 



Lo the frozen blue birds in the belfries 

The bluebells in their hearts are surely prey 

Unto the grasping bats-wing of the winter pincer 

Hoods of snowy grey.