Frankincense and Mirth

Dawn reveals an icy day, Guiding all to slow or slip, While tomorrow's roads show the way, to broken bread and comradeship,

A clock may not a compass be, And winter sun can't be my guide, To know the place, the time, of Tea, And Lunch's sweet incide.

Hvað segirðu gott? What good sayeth you? Of afternoon lunch, Says this *Askur of stew!