The Holly, the Holly
O, twine it with bay
Come, give the Holly a song
For it helps for to drive stern winter away
With his garment so sombre and long
It peeps through the trees with its berries of red
And its leaves
Oh, so burnished and green
And the flowers and fruits
Have long since been dead
And not even the daisy seen
Then sing to the Holly
The Christmas Holly
That hangs over peasant and king
While we laugh and carouse
Neath its glittering boughs
To the Christmas Holly we'll sing
The gale may whistle
The frost may come
To fetter the gurgling rill
The woods may be bare
And the warblers dumb
But the Holly is beautiful still
In the revel and delight of great princely halls
The bright Holly branches are found
And its green shadow falls
On the lowliest walls
While the horn of good measure goes round
Then drink to the Holly
The Christmas Holly
That hangs over peasant and king
While we laugh and carouse
Neath its glittering boughs
To the Christmas Holly we'll sing
The Ivy lives long
But its home must be
Where graves and ruins are spread
Great beauty is found in the cypress tree
But it flourishes nearest the dead
The laurel a warrior's brow may wreath
But its story's of sorrow and blood
I sing the Holly, and who can breathe
Aught of that which is not good
Then sing to the Holly
The Christmas Holly
That hangs over peasant and king
While we laugh and carouse
Neath its glittering boughs
To the Christmas Holly we'll sing