D.O.C. Putting the World to Bed
The little snow people are hurrying down
From their home in the clouds overhead;
They are working as hard as ever they can,
Putting the world to bed.
Every tree in a soft fleecy nightgown they clothe;
Each part has its night-cap of white,
And over the cold ground a thick cover they spread
Before they say good-night.
And so they come eagerly sliding down,
With a swift and silent tread,
Always as busy as busy can be;
Putting the world to bed.
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