There is a hoary frost upon the ground
With a whistling wind that’s gathered round
And a feeling of a deepened chill
That cloaks today with impending ill
The fire is low, the morning is due
Let’s pray the sun will come shining through !
There is a hoary frost upon the ground
With a whistling wind that’s gathered round
And a feeling of a deepened chill
That cloaks today with impending ill
The fire is low, the morning is due
Let’s pray the sun will come shining through !
The grizzled stinging icy rain
Assails my frosted window pane
The splaying of its frozen bits
In rhythmic sound each window hits.
The ledges are piled high with snow
One cannot force the sash to go
The world outside is grim and bleak
It mocks the look of Bakers Street.
Oh Sherlock please, don’t be upset
We have no mystery as yet
The weather seems to be a curse
Of course it could be so much worse
Let’s wait it out, comfy inside
Thank God that we have nought to hide !