Winds blow so cold,
The whining wind is old,
and many stories it has told.
"Through many deep abis,
An old figure tis-
walk the moonless night,
he walks with cold and walks without light,
Oh in the the moonless night!
 
Walk'ith he dead,
Walk'ith he alive,
Walk'ith he away from bed,
Walk'ith he with toes, five.
 
Yes he wonder's aimless,
Yes he walk'th alone,
Yes he walks in Darkness,
Yes he walk'ith alone.
 
Oh to the old man alone!
Oh to the old man without a home!
Oh to the old man alone!
 
A look of his eye will frighten,
A hold of his hand will tighten.
So don't be fooled of his seemed age,
This old man is not but a sage.
 
'Oh hell! ye tormenting devil of hell'
He cry's in the light on a window sill,
Till he is shoed away by the people and he cry's again,
'Hell to ya! Peep'all's of the to'n,
And hell to ya law'er's of cune'.
 
Yes the poor man yonder's,
And through through land he wonder's,
What has gone wrong in his life?
So full of pain and strife.
Why does his past and future torment him so?
He has looked for love high and low.
But to no avail,
Now he dies alone his face 'a pale,
And his last words are but this:
'Why oh Fate, why?'...."