There Is Nothing At All To Do To-Day. I Can't Go Out And Run And Play; For It's Raining And Snowing And Sleeting, Too; And Old Man Winter He Is To Blame. And I Just Sit Here And Think It A Shame. There Is Nothing At All To Do. I Stand Or Sit At The Windowpane, And Look At The Snow And Look At The Rain, And The Old Dead Leaves Go Flying By; For Wild Man Wind Is Making A Din; And Mother Says That It Is A Sin: And I'm Almost Ready To Cry. I Can't Go Out In The Wind And Wet, And It's A Long Time Yet Till The Table'S Set, And We Are Ready For Toast And Tea: It's A Long Time Too Till The Lamp Is Lit, And My Father'S Home And I Can Sit, And He Can Read To Me. And I Can Not Play Or Do A Thing; And There'S No One Coming Visiting, For It's Storming More And More: But Now And Then There'S A Rat-Tat-Tat, And I Ask My Mother What Is That, And She Says, "The Wind At The Door." And She Says, "Now What Can The Old Wind Want A-Knocking There With His Knuckles Gaunt? You Can Hear His Old Hat Dripping Rain, And His Ragged Cloak That Flaps And Slaps. Why, I Guess He's Looking For Little Chaps, To Give Them A Cold Again. "You Can See Him There By The Water-Spout With Old Man Rain Just Flapping About, His Long Sharp Nose An Icicle, And His Fingers Too; And His Old, Wild Eyes Small And Gray As The Winter Skies, Or Ice In A Winter Well." And Then She Comes To My Side And Sits And Says, "Just Listen How He Hits! But He Can't Get In And You Can't Get Out: And By And By He'll Be Out Of Breath, And Grumble And Growl Himself To Death, Or Leave With A Mighty Shout." Right Then There Comes A Step On The Stair, And I Run To See; And My Father'S There; With Snow And Rain On His Coat And Hat. Now Old Man Winter Can Break His Cane, Can Crack His Cane On The Windowpane I Don't Care A Rap For That. For My Father'S Home! "It's A Wild Old Night. The Wind And The Snow Are Having A Fight," He Says, "And Are Mauling Each Other Around: First Old Man Snow Rips Out A Curse; Then Wild Man Wind Says Something Worse; Then Both Are On The Ground. "And Old Man Snow Is Underneath, And He Snarls Like A Wolf And Shows His Teeth, While Wild Man Wind Just Hits And Hits: Then Round They Wrestle; And Old Snow Reels, His Long Wild Whiskers Around His Heels, And His Gray Cloak Torn In Bits. "And Before You Know It He's Up With A Bound, And It's Wild Man Wind That Hits The Ground, And Old Man Snow Holds Down His Arm: You Can See Them There By The Window-Light, Wrangling, Wrestling Out In The Night, Out In The Night And Storm." Then I Look And See How The Wind And Snow Just Fight It Out And Thrash And Blow; Their Windy Rags Through The Ghostly Black Go Whistling Past The Windowpane: Then I Run To The Fire And Lamp Again, And Reach A Book From The Rack. The Lamp Is Lit, And My Father'S Knee And The Fairy Tales Are Ready For Me: And I Sit, And He Holds Me By The Hand: Now Wild Man Wind And Old Man Snow Can Do Their Worst And Bluster And Blow, I Am Far In Fairyland.