With the cruel, cold an' blustery storm
- comes the need for humanity to find warmth.
Yay- it causes me bones ta' freeze so quick
- and crack under pressure like fallen twigs.
Nay - there'll be no hunting, nor gathering, today;
- for - we've, all, been ignored by the Suns rays
- an' this wicked wind storm looks here to stay.

Yay- a fierce an' frigid winter wind
- keeps all o' the peasants confined
- to, each, their own homes an' dens.
Or- rather - wherever they were when
- that brisk breeze began to blow
- an' the foggy sky began to snow.

I attempt to stay clear of thoughts, so, sour
- but, regardless, I find my mind devoured
- by the dark figure, cloaked in a robe o' black;
- he's taken hold o' my brain an' won't give it back.
He has a vice-like grip on the fabric of my soul;
- yay - he seems to have stolen all control.

Oh -- when the wind blows
- an' there's no one around:
- my troubled mind - she goes
- spinning right round an' around.

To find oneself relieved of any outstanding grieve,
- into the late hours of this wicked winter's eve,
- shan't be my fortune tonight - I do tru-ly believe.

This storm leaves humanity nestled in its dens
- waiting out that cold an' fierce winter wind;
- an' the fog that rolls in : it's, ever, so dense.