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Good King Wenceslas
Holiday

Lyrics

Good King Wenceslas looked out
on the feast of Stephen
when the snow lay round about,
deep and crisp and even.
Brightly shone the moon that night,
though the frost was cruel,
when a poor man came in sight,
gath'ring winter fuel.
Hither, page, and stand by me
if thou know'st it telling:
yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?
Sire, he lives a good league hence,
underneath the mountain,
right against the forest fence
by Saint Agnes fountain.
Bring me flesh and bring me wine,
bring me pine logs hither.
Thou and I will see him dine
when we bear the thither.
Page and monarch, forth they went,
forth they went together.
Through the rude wind's wild lament
and the bitter weather.
Sire, the night is darker now
and the wind blows stronger.
Fails my heart, I know not how.
I can go no longer.
Ark my footsteps, my good page,
tread thou in them boldly:
thou shalt find the winter's rage
freeze thy blood less coldly.

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