Winter's cast her shadow,
Over nature's frigid land
The beings of her kingdom,
Are ruled with an icy hand
The chill it seems to whisper,
A few more moments snug in bed
The goats won't mind if it's later,
Until they are milked and fed
By this the conscientious one,
Isn't taken in.
For he knows the rewards are great
When chores on time begin
The glory of the morning,
Shared by man and friend,
This truly loving owner,
On whom they can depend.