Winter Song (~1970 by Alan Hull, Lindisfarne)

When Winter's shadowy fingers first pursue you down the street
And your boots no longer lie about the cold around your feet
Do you spare a thought for Summer whose passage is complete
Whose memories lie in ruins and whose ruins lie in heat
When Winter.... comes howling in

When the wind is singing strangely, blowing music through your head
And your rain-splattered windows make you decide to stay in bed
Do you spare a thought for the homeless tramp who wishes he was dead
Or do you pull your bed-clothes higher, dream of Summertime instead
When Winter.... comes howling in

The creeping cold has fingers that caress without permission
And mystic crystal snowdrops only aggravate the condition
Do you spare a thought for the gypsy with no secure position
Who's turned and spurned by village and town and the Magistrate's decision
When Winter.... comes howling in

When the turkey's in the oven and the Christmas presents are bought
And Santa's in his module - he's an American astronaut
Do you spare a thought for Jesus, who had nothing but his thoughts
Who got busted - just for talking, and befriending the wrong sorts
When Winter.... comes howling in
When Winter.... comes howling in

This is so beautiful, my friend. I want to thank you with all my heart for sending me the recording; I wish everyone could hear it.

Thank you for thinking of me, for warming this cold night, and for sending me this spark in the dark.

Respect and solidarity, and love always,

+Stevie