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The Cold Within - Len Squires
Composed by：Len Squires
Six men trapped by circumstance in the bleak and bitter cold
Each one possessed a stick of wood
Or so the story's told
Their dying fire in need of logs
The first one held his back
For of the faces 'round the fire
He noticed one man black
The cold within
The cold within
You mean seen
The cold within
The next one sitting 'cross the way
Saw one not of his church
And couldn't bring himself to give the fire
His stick of birch
The third one sat in tattered coldes
And gave his coat a hitch
Why should his log be put to
Use to warm the idle rich
The cold within
The cold within
You mean seen
The cold within
The rich man just sat band and thought of all
He had in store
And how to keep what he had earned from
The lazy ships poor
And the black man's face bespoke revenge
As the fire passed from his sight
All he saw in his stick of wood was a chance
To spite the white
The cold within
The cold within
You mean seen
The cold within
The cold within
The cold within
You mean seen
The cold within
The last man of this follow drink did nought except for gain
Giving only me those who gave was how he played the game
Their logs trizen they still hands was proof of human sin
They didn't die from cold without they died from cold within
The cold within
The cold within
You mean seen
The cold within
They died from cold within
They died from cold within
They died from cold within
