I Can't Believe That It's So Cold

And There Ain't Been No Snow.

The Sound Of Music It Comes To Me

From Every Place I Go.

Sunday Morning, There's No One In Church

But The Clergy's Chosen Man

And He Is Fine I Won't Worry About Him

Got The Book In His Hand.



There's A Bitter East Wind And The Fields Are Swaying

The Crows Are Round Their Nests.

I Wonder What He's In There Saying

To All Those Souls At Rest.

I See The Path Which Led To The Door

And The Clergy's Chosen Man

Bushes And Briars, You And I

Where Do We Stand?



I Wonder If He Knows I'm Here

Watching The Briars Grow.

And All These People Beneath My Shoes,

I Wonder If They Know.

There Was A Time When Every Last One

Knew A Clergy's Chosen Man

Where Are They Now? Thistles And Thorns

Among The Sand.



I Can't Believe That It's So Cold

And There Ain't Been No Snow.

The Sound Of Music It Comes To Me

From Every Place I Go.

Sunday Morning, There's No One In Church

But The Clergy's Chosen Man

Bushes And Briars, Thistles And Thorns

Upon The Land.