He's on his feet and his feet are on the go
He anticipates a show
WWen winter comes home to Erie

The day is burned away
Evening comes as an after-thought
Down below the lake salt mines are a subtler plot

Ore boats cross the lake
Birds hurry up and down riding in the wakes
When winter comes home to Erie

The clouds turn to stone
The city looks as frail as bone
Carved by a chinaman and left because he died alone

That's Erie