Full Lyrics
Loud blow the winds with blust'ring breath,
And snow falls cold upon the heath,
And hill and vale look drear;
The torrent foams with headlong roar,
The trees their chilly loads deplore,
And drop the icy tear.
The little birds, with wishful eye,
For alms unto my cottage fly,
Since they can boast no hoard:
In at the door the pilgrims peep,
But Robin will not distance keep,
So perches on my board.
Loud blow the winds...
Come in, ye little minstrels sweet,
And from your feathers shake the sleet,
And warm your freezing blood:
No cat shall touch a single plume,
Come in, sweet choirnay, fill my room,
and take of grain a treat;
There flicker gay about the beams,
And hop, and do what pleasant seems,
And be a joyful throng,
Till spring may clothe the leafless grove,
Then go and build your nests, and love,
And thank me with a song.
Loud blow the winds...
