Blind Man's Buff
When the win-ter winds are blow-ing,
And we ga-ther glad and gay,
Where the fire its light is throw-ing,
For a mer-ry game at play,
There is none that to my know-ing,—
And I've play-ed at games enough,—
Makes us laugh, and sets us glow-ing
Like a game at Blind-man's Buff.
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