Morning mist

Fog came down while we were in Mass, so the drive back to town was misty white with the shadows of horses running along the road.

Migla, migla, liela rasa,

Man pazuda kumeliņš. 

Nu, Dieviņi, tavā vaļā, 

Nu, tavāi rociņā...

(I hope those familiar with the song will forgive me for rearranging the words.)