Hot Buttered Rum

When chimney smoke hangs still and lowacross the stubbled fields of snow

And angry skies reach down and seizethe sorry blackened bones of trees

In the dead of winter when the silent snowbirds come

You're my sweet maple sugar, honey, hot buttered rum

When dreary

Christmas decorationsline the streets and filling stations

And dime store

Santas can't disguisetheir empty hands and empty eyes

In the dead of winter when the tinsel angels come

You're my sweet maple sugar, honey, hot buttered rum

When gloves and boots and woolen parkasbring cold comfort to the heartand bitter memories freeze the tongueand songs of love are left unsung

In the dead of winter when the cold feelings come

You're my sweet maple sugar, honey, hot buttered rum