Down a dark trail through deep frozen spruce,
The lights peering outward bright halos produce,
As we crawl over snow that squeaks under our tread,
Pushing farther from home into darkness ahead,
Breathing smoke as warm vapors freeze and turn white,
Tiny crystals suspended in the breath of the night, 
Collecting on eyebrows and all sorts of hair,
The heater flat failing to warm the harsh air,
Our mission's a clearing far out in the wood,
Some broken equipment that must be made good,
So onward we press 'till the work is complete,
And fend off the frostbite that threatens our feet.