Outside the wind is howling death
A screaming gale of endless breath
Over the hill she comes and goes
What she is, but few may know
Inside her she is not so mean
As her outside makes her seem
Her soul is quite a peaceful one
Heard by few and friends of none

Inside I sleep in gentle peace
With dreams of gold that never cease
What I am, but few may know
For I only give what I want to show
Inside I am a screaming gale
A howling death of rain and hail
My soul is wrought with pain and fear
That none will know and few will hear