Out on the wiley, windy moors
We’d roll and fall in green.
You had a temper like my jealousy:
Too hot, too greedy.
How could you leave me,
When I needed to possess you?
I hated you. I loved you, too.
Bad dreams in the night
They told me I was going to lose the fight,
Leave behind my wuthering, wuthering
Heathcliff, don’t you know that it’s me, it’s Cathy, I’ve come home.
I’m so cold, let me in-a-your window.
Uma prendinha do Il miglior Fabbro