As I sit here, at my house, on a winter night. The peace and stillness cures my illness. Winter holidays, I am yours, forever. I like to think I am clever by my drinking hot chocolate that I bought. I aught to look at all of the lights outside and have a bite of my apple pie. As I say goodbye, to my dear friend, for the night I am pleased. I am at ease, knowing Christmas day is almost here. I don't mean to boast or say I and only I am the most cheerful. I think, what I will have for dinner, is a nice piping hot pot roast. O, joy for the holidays! When in winter, the winds at night had made a rout and scattered many a lusty splinter. And many a rotten bough about. Taste, touch, and smell, pleased from thy tale rise; they only now come but to feast thine eyes.
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