Verse 1

Beyond the ridge, where fir trees lean,

The winter laid its hand.

One young pine kept its stubborn green

Against the frozen land.

Verse 2

The snow came down in crooked sheets,

The branches bowed and sighed.

A fox left prints beside the creek,

Then vanished where they died.

Chorus

Hold fast, small tree, through the bitter night,

Though every trail is lost.

The dawn will find your needles bright,

Still standing through the frost.

Verse 3

A distant bell crossed through the pines,