Night

The snow is white, the wind is cold—

The king has sent for my three-year-old.

Bring the pony and shoe him fast

With silver shoes that were made to last.

Bring the saddle trimmed with gold;

Put foot in stirrup, my three-year-old;

Jump in the saddle, away, away!

And hurry back by the break of day;

By break of day, through dale and down,

And bring me the news from Slumbertown.