Freezing fog envelopes and hides the usual view of Norwich Cathedral, Castle and City Hall from my bedroom window. Thankfully for our collective peace of mind, it also camouflages the multii-storey car parks which are home to some of our population of rough sleepers.
Old Winter is come with its cold chilling breath
And the leaves are all gone from the trees
All nature seems touched by the finger of death
And the lakes are beginning to freeze
When your minds are annoyed by the wide swelling flood
And your bridges are useful no more
When in plenty you enjoy everything that is good
That's the time to remember the poor
The cold air and snow will in plenty descend
And whiten the prospect around
The keen cutting wind from the north will attend
And cover it over the ground
When the hills and the dales are all candied with white
And the rivers are froze on the shore
When the bright twinkling stars they proclaim the cold night
That's the time to remember the poor
The poor timid hare through the woods may be traced
By her footsteps indented in the snow
When our lips and our fingers are all dangling with cold
And the marksman a-shooting doth go
When the young wanton lads on the river slide
And the icicles hang at your door
When in plenty you are sitting by a warm fireside
You will tremble to think of the poor
For the times fast a-coming when our Saviour on earth
All the world shall agree with one voice
All nations unite to salute the blest morn
And the whole of then earth shall rejoice
When grim death is deprived of its killing sting
And the grave rules triumphant no more
Saints angels and men hallelujah shall sing
Then the rich will remember the poor
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