Goodbye my friend,
For winters den,
Has turned the nights a sorrow.

The clouds cry,
Birds don't fly,
And she left, for new tomorrow.

At the bottom of the hill,
With the bare white trees,
At the lands fallow.
You sit there,
Wondering throughout,
The nights sorrow.

But don't fear my friend,
For in one seasons day,
There will be tomorrow,
With the blue-birds singing,
And church bells ringing,
As I wait at the hallow.