Run, little man, or old Jack Frost
Will catch you ere you know it,
I am sure you are half afraid of him,
Though your manner does not show it.
With your soft warm cap and your overcoat,
You think you can safely meet him.
The harsh old fellow will have to look sharp,
Or the coy little man will cheat him.
See how bravely he faces the piercing wind,
Not afraid of the cold is he,
And the roses bloom on his rounded cheek,
As he romps in his boyish glee.
Heigh-ho, little man, if you meet the storms,
That blow o'er the hills of life,
With half the courage you show to-day,
You are sure to win in the strife.
Then go, little man, and never you fear
But look the world in the face,
And you'll find on the heights of life, my boy,
That world will make you a place.
'Tis only the brave that fortune finds,
'Tis only the good who win;
The sluggards' bulwarks are tumbled down,
And he falls in the gutters of sin.
So up, little man, and never say fail,
Though frosts of adversity fall;
With courage your armor, and hope for a sword,
There is naught your heart can appall.