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The wind’s like a dog who howls at the door.
It scratches the paintwork with an impatient paw.
   It’s boisterous, it’s noisy and relentlessly whines.
   We’ve always kept dogs, so I know all the signs.

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I try not to listen but hear a loud bark.
I know it’s the wind who’s alone in the dark.

    It seeks human company, as dogs do as well,
    As they work on we humans a magical spell.

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I turn up the tele, put fuel on the fire,
And hope that the wind will eventually tire.
     But he blows down the chimney and rattles the panes
    With his cunning accomplice, the pattering rain.

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Then suddenly, like magic, his bellowing din
Goes quiet when he knows that he cannot come in.
     So I ask you one question: Then what does he do?
     Why, he takes his loud howling and tries it on you!

 

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