YesterdayÂ's newspapers forecasts no rain for today
YesterdayÂ's news was old news, the skies are all grey
WinterÂ's in labor and soon will give birth to the spring
And sprinkle the meadows with flowers for my Angeline

Heartache and sorrow and sadness unendingly find
Wings on a memory and with them she flies to my mind
She stretched her arms for a moment, then went back to sleep
While morning stood watching me ever so silently weak

She opened her eyes, Lord, the minute my feet touched the floor
The cold hard-wood creaked with each step that I made to the door
Then I turned to her gently and said, "Hon, just look, it is spring"
Knowing outside the window, the winter looked for Angeline

But yesterdayÂ's newspaper forecast no rain for today,
But yesterdayÂ's news is old news the skies are all grey