Frigid winter nights in ‘Scray
Can freeze the marrow in the bones,
Till flesh and blood are near solid
And life seems all but gone.
Frigid winter winds do howl
Like Banshees in old legends,
Howling out the loss of life
As another poor life doth end.
Winter winds cut to the bone
Like a butcher’s well-honed knife,
And in the streets of MelbourneTown
The cold wind takes another life.
The winter wind is like a blade
That cuts clean to the marrow,
A life that once seemed hard and long
Has now become so narrow.
Frigid winds howl like ancient ghosts
In oft-told fairy tales,
As the blood sets in a pauper’s chest
Another poor heart doth fail.
Antarctic winds howl like fiends
With a promise of horror to come,
Freezing street folk to the bone
Until all trace of life is gone.
Frigid winter winds freeze everyone
As they mournfully sweep past,
Until all hope of warmth is dead
And everyone is dead at last.
© Copyright 2011
© Copyright 2017 Philip Roberts. All rights reserved.
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