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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 winter’s night
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