From their northeast source the sour wind roars
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Bear gifts fresh from the valley waters.
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Hallow echoes strip Pennsylvania mountain walls
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With their corsets and their old Betsy ruffle
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And their slips with pearly white.
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They stand bulging up against the screen door,
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A banshee "Good night."
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Summer's sweet and she brings me water,
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But give me Winter, that old icy whore.
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While Summer lies meek and follows orders,
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Winter cries "Me!" and pulls you through the door.
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The limp milk tramp cries metal-flake tears.
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They drip like honey down <soot?> momma's leg.
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You lay watchin' them off. Eat a hole in his cloth.
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He'll ask, but he don't beg.
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Said I'd like to the mademoiselle
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Who holds the keys to all these doors around the waist
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And rings the bell.
|
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Summer's sweet and she brings me water,
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But give me Winter, that old icy whore.
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Summer lies meek and follows orders,
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Winter cries "Me!" and pulls you through the door.
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With scufflin' sound, the knot-voiced matron makes her rounds,
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Knockin' on each and every door.
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With a look like white heat, she sways, salty, sweet
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And leads me 'cross her Persian floor.
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She squeeze' my hand and before her I stood.
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I was scared. It was dark, but it was good.
|
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Summer's sweet and she brings me water,
|
But give me Winter, that old icy whore.
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While Summer lies meek and follows orders,
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Winter cries "Me!" and pulls me through her door.
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|
-----------------
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Winter Song
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| Bruce Springsteen |
