When blows the wind on hilltop high Birds do hide and insects die Mice hide in their in tunnels deep When blows the wind, and clouds do weep Then when the cold begins to bite Blanket snow in purest white Hides the hilltops plaintive cry When blows the wind on hilltop high Mornings break reveals a scene And sunlight brings a melting dream The finest sight is yours forever Oh the joy of seeing snow on heather