Tag: chill
-
No Home
From leaf to leaflet, from little straws and clay / I made myself a pallet, built myself a home. / Now wicked breezes blow – the frosts are on their way, / now it’s wretchedness and woe — / driven from our nest.
From leaf to leaflet, from little straws and clay / I made myself a pallet, built myself a home. / Now wicked breezes blow – the frosts are on their way, / now it’s wretchedness and woe — / driven from our nest.