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Embed code for: To sing a song behind the stove
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To sing a song behind the stove
The winter is a right man,
Core Festival and in the long run.
His flesh feels like iron,
And afraid not sweet or sauer.
Ever a man was healthy, he is;
He is sick and ailing never,
Don't know about night sweats even vapors,
and sleeps in the cold room.
He pulls his shirt in free,
And it leaves previously not warm;
And scoffs at River in the tooth
and colic in bowels.
From flowers and birdsong
Does he know nothing to do,
Hates warm drink and warm sound.
And all warm things.
But when the foxes Bay very,
If the wood oven knitter,.
And around the stove
servant hands rubbing and trembles;
When stone and leg breaks before Frost
And pond ' and Lakes crash;
It sounds good, that he hates not,
Because he wants to laugh himself. –
Castle of ice is quite beyond
At the North Pole on the beach;
But he's also a summer house
In the love land of Swiss.
There he is soon there soon here,
Good to lead Regiment.
And if he pulls through, we stand
And esteem him and freeze.