Beneath this snowy mantle cold and clean. The unborn grass lies waiting. for its coat to turn to green. The snowbird sings a song he always sings. And speaks to me of flowers.
Beneath its snowy mantle cold and clean. The unborn grass lies waiting for its coat to turn to green. The snowbird sings the song he always sings. And speaks to me of flowers that will bloom again in spring.
Beneath this snowy mantle cold and clean. The unborn grass lies waiting. For its coat to turn to green. The snowbird sings the song he always sings. And speaks to me of flowers.
Beneath this snowy mantle cold and clean. The unborn grass lies waitin' for its coat to turn to green. The snowbird sings the song he always sings. And speaks to me of flowers that will bloom again in spring.
Beneath this snowy mantle cold and clean. The unborn grass lies waiting. For its coat to turn to green. The snowbird sings the song he always sings. And speaks to me of flowers.
Beneath this snowy mantle cold and clean. The unborn grass lies waiting. For its coat to turn to green. The snowbird sings the song he always sings. And speaks to me of flowers.
SNOWBIRD. Writer Gene MacLellan. . Beneath this snowy mantle cold and clean. The unborn grass lies waiting for its coat to turn to green. The snowbird sings the song he always sings.
Beneath this snowy mantle cold and clean. The unborn grass lies waiting for its coat to turn to green. Snowbird sings the song he always sings. And speaks to me of flowers that will bloom again in spring.