The Throat Of Winter
The barren barley fields refuse to sway
Before the Husky hag of early darkness
In her hoods of snowy grey.
Winter winter winter
Are you but a servant of the bad one.
Lo the frozen blue birds in the belfries
The bluebells in their hearts are surely prey
Unto the grasping bats-wing of the winter pincer
Hoods of snowy grey.
Autor(es): Marc Bolan