  When Winter flies, and sunny skies Invite the lark to sing, my dear, My heart in exultation cries, "Ah! give me balmy Spring, my dear!" When scented Summer fills the air With zephyrs from the West, my dear, I stretch me on the grass and swear I love the Summer best, my dear. When gorgeous Autumn paints the wood In red and gold, and green, my dear, I cry delighted, "By the Rood, But Autumn is the Queen, my dear!" And yet, when through the leafless trees Skirls loud the icy blast, my dear, We, basking by the fire at ease, Do hear it sweeping past, my dear; And when you mix, as well you know, My tumbler reeking hot, my dear, Why then, what matter ice and snow?— Bleak Winter beats the lot, my dear! |
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