And through the welkin far and wide
The echo of our song shall peal.

CHORUS.--Hurrah, boys, hurrah! skates on and away!
You may lag at your work, but never at play;
Give wing to your feet, and make the ice ring,
Give voice to your mirth, and merrily sing.

Ho for the boy who does not care
A fig for cold or northern blast!
Whose winged feet can cut the air
Swift as an arrow from bowman cast:
Who can give a long and hearty chase,
And wheel and whirl; then in a trice
Inscribe his name in the polished face,
Of the cold and clear and glistening ice.

CHORUS.

Ho, boys! the night is waning fast;
The moon's last rays but faintly gleam.
The hours have glided swiftly past,
And we must home to rest and dream.
The morning's light must find us moving,
Ready our daily tasks to do;
This is the way we have of proving
We can do our part at working too.

CHORUS.