Doth thee know about the king of the frost?
Saucy in his art, brings chills to thy heart.
He is hither, all hope of spring is lost.
King Frost, why don’t thou stop thy chilling art?

Hark to the rough wind, tis King Frost knocking.
Cold and bitter, yet so full of beauty.
Thou feel the King’s heart as thou’st walking.
Beauty is known when he holds hands with thee.

His children fall from the dark sky above.
Covering the ground in a blanket of white.
Covering the ground in a blanket of love.
Thou catch children on thy tongue with delight.

Oh dear King Frost, oh dear King of the Snow…
Now I know thee, I wish thee not to go!