| Throw a stone across the ice
|
| Upon the laughing lake
|
| We city kids sure know our stuff
|
| We’re out here on the make
|
| The colour of the winter sky
|
| Reflects the coldness of the ground
|
| The leather of our shoes is thin
|
| It lets us know we’ve been around
|
| Throw a stone across the ice
|
| And hear the laughing lake
|
| We should have worm our furry coats
|
| Our ears begin to ache
|
| No empty cans among the trees
|
| No motor-cars or sudden sounds
|
| Just wayward crows in wintertime
|
| They cross the hills between the town
|
| The pebble spins across the ice
|
| Farther than the eye can see
|
| The laughter echoes from the air
|
| And darkness gathers silently
|
| Throw a stone across the ice
|
| And watch the laughing lake
|
| When springtime sunshine warms the air
|
| The frozen water breaks
|
| Our sinking stone will make its way
|
| To join the other stones below
|
| While you and I will take our place
|
| In stony cities' undertow |