Oh the cold, I can't take it any more; Knuckles from seams. I can hardly breathe this heavy air, it means nothing to me. But we have swallowed this for years! They say, you say, Up with mittens, down with gloves! They say, You breathe what you want and keep on breathing. I'm breathing. We have swallowed this for years. We'll see in the morning. (Will it melt away?) Up with mittens, Down with gloves! We'll see I'm freezing. (Will it melt away?) Up with mittens, Down with gloves! We'll see in the morning. (Will it melt away?) Up with mittens, Down with gloves! It ought to be the warmest tone of a quarter note in this minor chord. If I could hear its hum or feel its rhythm I would strum it all day long. We have swallowed this for years. We'll see in the morning. (Will it melt away?) Up with mittens, Down with gloves! We'll see I'm freezing. (Will it melt away?) Up with mittens, Down with Gloves! We'll see in the morning. (Will it melt away?) Up with mittens, Down with gloves! Oh, the cold I can't take it any more; Knuckles from seams.