On their feverish couch
Are praying for frost.
Oh, who can half measure
The sorrow and gloom
That enshrouds our fair land
Like a dark, dreary tomb.
May God in his mercy,
Ere hope is all lost,
Relentingly hasten
The coming of frost.
On their feverish couch
Are praying for frost.
Oh, who can half measure
The sorrow and gloom
That enshrouds our fair land
Like a dark, dreary tomb.
May God in his mercy,
Ere hope is all lost,
Relentingly hasten
The coming of frost.