THE FIRST SNOW-STORM.
Reading edition
Oh, what shall we do? cried a sad little bird— Oh, what shall we do? cried she; For the fields lie white in the morning light, And there's never a leaf on a tree— Tree, tree, tree— And there's never a leaf on a tree. Oh, let us be off to the fair sunny South— Oh, let us be off, said he; For they tell me down there they've enough and to spare For my dear little wifey and me— Me, me, me— For my dear little wifey and me.
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