It's Cold Outside It's cold outside And the frost clings to my window pane, The floor is dusted in white, Like the top of a Victoria sponge, The tree branches bare icy lumps, The birds aren't out to sing today, For their feathers would meet an icy treat, I lay in my bed of sorrow, With my aching heart I lay, Lay with salty tears trickling down my cheek, I feel paralysed with longing, For your embrace and warm assurance, For you to stroke my rose pinched cheek, To intertwine your hand with mine, A tangle of fingers and thumbs, But here instead I lay alone And it's cold outside
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