It comes, sweeping over the mountains like a tide of renewal,
Brushing away the snow and cold,
like a bad dream banished by a Mothers gentle love.
Ah Winter, you cold hearted wretch,
loose us from your icy grasp, give us a brief respite.
Your day will come again,
we will be wrapped in the chill regard of your icy stare,
But for today I know, your grasp is weak,
till your frosty turn at the wind, you'll seek.