Yn wintre, whanne þe shoures harske
Blankettis of snawe hath keffride burg and marsche
Than longen folk to maken menne of snawe.
Herkenyth þe tale off ane þat didde so.
Aros he erly, to fynde þe gardyn gon:
Hit watz al whit, wyþ snawe hepd vpon.
So set þe chylde to maken him a frende
Al doone in snawe. Þanne, com to an ende,
Clothyd þe manne wyth hat and eke wyth hod.
Wyth eʒan off cole and nose of frutte he stod.
Þe ladde lofede þe snawe-man briʒte
& watchyd hym vntil þat hyt watz niʒte.
Þe chylde laie vntil þe house did slepe
Þan ynto þe gardyn he bi-gan to crepe.
Of jolifnesse þe ladde watz rife,
For þat þe snawe-man has y-com on life!
Þe lytelle boy & þe manne off snawe
Ynto þe house þei bi-gan to goe.
Yn kychen þei hadde muchel joie & merthe
(Nis nat yn halle: hat watz þe herthe)
Þanne fadires cloþys þe manne of snawe gan treie
Þanne out þei wenten, for-to þat þei xulde fleie.
Wente chylde & snawe-man walking yn þe aire
And flo þei þurʒ feldes euerilke-quare,
Þan londed þei softe vpon þe grounde,
Maken þei nat ane lytelle sounde.
"Y þanken the", þe lytelle chylde saide,
And sped he hastylye vnto hys bedde.
Vpon þe morowe, þe sonne schon
And verily þe man of snawe watz gon.
On the erþe quer þat he had stod
Watz noʒte bot hat, & cole, & frutte, & hod.
Written 4th December 2017