Where's The Snow That Fell

Sure The Shovel And Tongs To Each Other Belongs.

For A Ballad's A Thing You Expect To Find Lies In.

The Neck On Which Diamonds Might Have Worthily Sparkled, Will Look Less Tempting When The Biting Winter Has Hung Icicles There For Gems.

Circumstances Are The Rulers Of The Weak; They Are But The Instruments Of The Wise.

I'll Seek A Four Leaved Shamrock In All Thy Fairy Dells, And If I Find The Charmed Leaves, Oh, How I'll Weave My Spells!