When frost's all on our winder, an' the snow's br All out-o'-doors, our 'Old-Kriss'-milkman goes br A-drivin' round, ist purt'-nigh froze to death, br With his old white mustache froze full o' breath. br br But when it's summer an' all warm ag'in, br He comes a-whistlin' an' a-drivin in br Our alley, 'thout no coat on, ner ain't cold, br Ner his mustache ain't white, ner he ain't old.