Under the blanket of the starry night,
Where the lambent lights glow
A fox, coated in white fur, stares into sight;
Wondering if it will snow.

Christmas time has hit the moors
Where the nights whistle like a train
And as carols linger all in the air
Christmas in the village feels tender and rare.

But as the night is cold, and the houses are warm
With all the little children tucked in bed, lost in sleep,
The fox stays up.
Where, at the crack of dawn
Dew will sprinkle like glitter on the lawn.