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I want to lye in a room with a wooden floor
Where cold wind blows from underneath the door
Where a fireplaces wood crackles then burns
As the fireplace rocks blacken with warmth
I lye in bed
Listening aloud
Covered in rugs
Pillows support my head
From a howling wind outside
Whose trees blanket my window
On a cold winters night
Cattle lying flat
Neath the willow trees cleft
Horses standing huddled
Frightened of the night
But I am content
The happiest of all
Yes I want to lye
Above the wooden floor
Where the wind from my window
Is silenced by a roar
Of wooden embers burning within my fireplace
Where sticks and rocks collide
Heating up my face