Iv

Now to their tasks the farm-hands go, Cheerily, cheerily: With ears a-tingle and cheeks a-glow, She with her pail and he with his hoe, To milk the cows and to path the snow, Merrily, merrily.

Sing, Ho, a song of the winter day, When ermine-capped are the stacks of hay, And the wood-smoke pillars the air with gray, And the old clock ticks, “To work! to work!” And the goodwife sings as she churns away-- Sing, Ho, a song of the winter day! Sing, Ho!