Cold Winter is coming—he's ready to start
From his home on the mountains afar;
He is shrunken and pale—he looks froze to the heart,
And snow-wreaths embellish his car.
Cold Winter is coming—Hark! did ye not hear
The blast which his herald has blown?
The children of Nature all trembled in fear,
For to them is his power made known.
Cold Winter is coming—there breathes not a flower,
Though sometimes the day may pass fair!