It is icy up here
And the night has been long
I haven’t heard cheer
Or the little bird’s song
The dark makes it colder
Oh, the shadows of night
I’m not seeing gladness
Or the little bird’s flight

How do I wish morning
Would make itself known
When eyes would peer out
From the tucked-in, hushed home
They’d see me, and smile
Oh, how bright it becomes
When the little bird sings
At the sight of the sun

Then with the warmth
And with the glow
I become water
When once I was snow
I fall from this branch
But all the way down
I’ll see the bird dance
And hear its sweet sound