Артур Вейр (Arthur Weir)

Snowshoeing Song

Hilloo, hilloo, hilloo, hilloo!  
Gather, gather, ye men in white;  
The winds blow keenly, the moon is bright,  
The sparkling snow lies firm and white;  
Tie on the shoes, no time to lose,          
We must be over the hill to-night.  
 
Hilloo, hilloo, hilloo, hilloo!  
Swiftly in single file we go,  
The city is soon left far below,  
Its countless lights like diamonds glow;          
And as we climb we hear the chime  
Of church bells stealing o’er the snow.  
 
Hilloo, hilloo, hilloo, hilloo!  
Like winding-sheet about the dead,  
O’er hill and dale the snow is spread,          
And silences our hurried tread;  
The pines bend low, and to and fro  
The magpies toss their boughs o’erhead.  
 
Hilloo, hilloo, hilloo, hilloo!  
We laugh to scorn the angry blast,        
The mountain top is gained and past.  
Descent begins, ’t is ever fast—  
One short quick run, and toil is done,  
We reach the welcome inn at last.  
 
Shake off, shake off the clinging snow;        
Unloose the shoe, the sash untie,  
Fling tuque and mittens lightly by;  
The chimney fire is blazing high,  
And, richly stored, the festive board  
Awaits the merry company.          

Remove the fragments of the feast!  
The steaming coffee, waiter, bring  
Now tell the tale, the chorus sing,  
And let the laughter loudly ring;  
Here ’s to our host, drink down the toast,        
Then up! for time is on the wing.  
 
Hilloo, hilloo, hilloo, hilloo!  
The moon is sinking out of sight,  
Across the sky dark clouds take flight,  
And dimly looms the mountain height;        
Tie on the shoes, no time to lose,  
We must be home again to-night.

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