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In the pines, far down below

In the coldest winter breeze

We find no shelter from the storm

As it whips through frozen trees

Icy pellets whistle by

Like meteors from space

The old man has awakened

Brushing snow off from his face

He smiles a rather frosty grin

No comfort does he bring

His frigid presence chases away

The warmth to which we cling

He seems to find such pleasure

In coating the lands in white

Exhaling his breath, quite merrily

Throughout the winterโ€™s night

 

 

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