During the night Jack Frost spread his icy fingers across the garden and left a dusting of powdery white.
When the sun hangs low in the eastern sky,
Caught in the trees that shiver shy,
Red as the robin that flits nearby,
Sing hey, for a frosty morning!
When the lane is a-glitter beneath our feet,
Powdered with crystal, delicate, sweet,
And the quiet pond is a silver sheet,
Sing hey, for a frosty morning!
Come out, come out, while the sky is red,
over the crunching fields to tread,
Ere the frost in the kindling sun lies dead,
Sing, hey for a frosty morning!
Enid Blyton
over the crunching fields to tread,
Ere the frost in the kindling sun lies dead,
Sing, hey for a frosty morning!
Enid Blyton
No going out on a cold frosty day for me.......