There is a ghost that knocks at my window.
She only comes if it snows.
I could tell you something about her
When she’s here, but I know not where
She goes.
And it’s high tide
On the ocean side.
It’s wind
Wind and rain
Through the great
Great plains.
It’s ice,
Ice and snow
Outside
My window
Where Mary waits
For me to come home.
Would I rather live in California?
Where they tax you for the sun.
And the people they all looking mighty fancy,
And the fires they come to set you running.
Chorus
I could be the lonely captain.
I could be heaven’s host.
I could stand awake through the darkness,
Awaiting you, December’s ghost.
Chorus