When It's Very, Very Cold Poem by Robert Kirkland Kernighan

Are you thinking of the children,

And the helpless, and the old,
When the windy days are wintry

And the endless nights are cold ?
When the little ones are crying
And the helpless mother 's sighing,
When their only fire is dying,
And it 's very, very cold ?

Are you thinking of the cradle
And the baby blue with cold?

It hears a frozen lullaby

That once was gaily trolled.

The dying fire is blinking,

The mother's heart is sinking ;

My brother are you thinking,
When it 's very, very cold ?

Are you thinking of the weak ones
Whose tongue no tale has told?

How they fell against the rushing
Of the hearty ones and bold !

Their wretched bosoms quiver,

As shelterless they shiver

Beside the awful river,
For it 's very, very cold.

My brother to the sepulcher !
Go soon it 's very cold.


See that the stone of Destiny
Is from the entrance rolled.

Let no more hurt alarm them ;

Let no more evil harm them ;

Oh, let their Savior warm them,
For it 's very, very cold.