“Bless my heart, how cold it is!”
And now, ye sluggards, sloths, and beaux,
Who dread the breath that winter blows,
Pursue the counsel of a friend
Who never found it yet offend.
When winter deals his blasts around,
Go beat the air and pace the ground;
With cheerful spirits exercise,
’Tis there life’s balmy blessing lies.
O’er hill and dale,