Everything seems to glow richer before first frost, a last hurrah before the ghostly breath passes over.
In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter, long ago.
Some couldn’t eat ham and some wouldn’t eat lamb;
some couldn’t eat sugar, some couldn’t eat seeds.
So what could I order for our office feast?
And how could I cater for everyone’s needs?