The ground is frozen solid, there is black ice on the road,
The hoar-frosts of December are bestowed,
You sit here talking nonsense, put away your foolish words,
Come outside and we’ll feed the hungry birds.
You’ve drunk your tea, and ate your scrambled egg, so back to sleep;
What prize or treasure will indolence reap?
The sky is blue above the misty veil, why do you balk?
Get out of bed and take a morning walk.
Days now are short (and so is life), too short to while away,
Too short to waste in sleep; with foolish words;
Live now, don’t squander this crisp-cold and fine December day,
Walk round the grounds, come, feed the hungry birds.
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