Feel that chill wind from the north,
Nipping the head and ears,
Biting at fingers and toes,
Bringing a tear to the eye,
And a drip to the nose,
Wet steam from wasted breath,
Cheeks all rosy red.
In want of thicker clothes,
A layer of thermal mercy?
To those not wrapped in a blanket,
Like snot blown into a hankie,
And hid in a jacket pocket.
Winters come, nights draw in,
Thoughts for the cold, put silver in the tin.