My coat is heavy to bear, my son,
Though the prairie winds are cold,
So if you wish to set it down, my son,
I will not be hurt thereby,

The frost and snow are wicked, my son,
And the friends who help are few,
So if you make it on your own, my son,
Your strength will be my joy,

But should the wind of expectations,
Let you believe your pride,
Know this, that should you pick it up,
I will neither be hurt thereby.

For it will always be there for you,
I have need for it no more,
The cold and wind do not bother me, my son,
My love for you keeps me warm.