Beschreibung
"Strange how the frosts of our winter get into the bones of us old folks!
Here I be nigh on to eighty, yet play second fiddle to no one,
When, in the height of the summer, I work side by side with the reapers,
Or, later on, at the huskin' I fill the deep bins near to burstin'.
Let it come freezin' o' nights though, an' thawin' right smart every midday,