Here's my song, sad stags moan
Winter blows, summers gone
High winds lash, low the Sun
Short its course, seas roar on
Fall red fern, loses form
Wild geese wail as the norm
Cold now holds
Each birds wing
Icy times
So I sing
Cold now holds
Each birds wing
Icy times
So I sing
So I sing
Here's my song, sad stags moan
Winter blows, summers gone
High winds lash, low the Sun
Short its course, seas roar on
Fall red fern, loses form
Wild geese wail as the norm
Cold now holds
Each birds wing
Icy times
So I sing
Cold now holds
Each birds wing
Icy times
So I sing
So I sing
Icy times
So I sing
So I sing