The cold can burn and nip
Like fire, and bring disaster,
With the whirling snow for whip
Faster we run and faster.

Oh, the harsh and cruel winters,
With frozen noses coming,
When ears are smashed in splinters
By vile piano-strumming!

Ah, summer is the time!—
To green woods far from cities
I bear my griefs, and rhyme,
Alone, my tender ditties.