The north wind doth blow,
And we shall have snow,
And what will poor robin do then,
Poor thing ?
He'll sit in a barn,
And keep himself warm,
And hide his head under his wing,
The little robin grieves
When the snow is on the ground,
For the trees have no leaves,
And no berries can be found.
The air is cold, the worms are hid;
For robin here what can be done?
Let's strow around some crumbs of bread,
And then he'll live till snow is gone.
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