When summer’s memory is weak When days are short and nights are bleak It’s then our harmony we’ll hold Against the ever-creeping cold When the thatch with snow is crowned, Bar the hatch, we’re winterbound. When all the harvest’s gathered in The squirrels must their work begin If acorns coat the frosted ground For harsher weather we are bound. When fog rolls in on autumn tides And on its coat-tails winter rides The geese leave early, dawn comes late But we must up and tend the grate. When the bees are all a-bed We’ll ditch the cart; unearth the sled And see how high’s the hornet’s nest ‘Twill tell how high the snow will rest. If fortune keeps us through the dark To see the sap rise through the bark New harmonies succeed the old To speed the fast-receding cold.

Oh the holly and the ivy When they are both full grown Of all the trees that grow in the wood The holly bears the crown Oh the rising of the sun And the running of the deer The playing of the Merry organ Sweet singing all in the choir The holly bears a blossom As white as lays the snow And deep beneath the spring she sleeps While icy winds do blow Oh the rising of the sun And the running of the deer The playing of the Merry organ Sweet singing all in the choir The holly bears a berry As red as any blood The heart of the merry green wood Beats through the frost and flood Oh the rising of the sun And the running of the deer The playing of the Merry organ Sweet singing all in the choir The holly bears a prickly As sharp as any thorn The frost that holds the fields and folds Is vanquished by the dawn Oh the rising of the sun And the running of the deer The playing of the Merry organ Sweet singing all in the choir The holly bears a bark As bitter as any gall Burn fear and blame With fire and flame As new year comes to call Oh the rising of the sun And the running of the deer The playing of the Merry organ Sweet singing all in the choir Oh the holly and the ivy When they are both full grown Of all the trees that grow in the wood The holly bears the crown Oh the rising of the sun And the running of the deer The playing of the Merry organ Sweet singing all in the choir Oh the rising of the sun And the running of the deer The playing of the Merry organ Sweet singing all in the choir

“O where are you going?” said Milder to Maulder “O we may not tell you,” said Festle to Foes “We're off to the woods,” said John the Red Nose “What will you do there?” said Milder to Maulder “O we may not tell you,” said Festle to Foes “We'll hunt the Cutty Wren,” said John the Red Nose “How will you hunt her?” said Milder to Maulder “O we may not tell you,” said Festle to Foes “With bows and with arrows,” said John the Red Nose “That will not do then,” said Milder to Maulder “O what will do then?” said Festle to Foes “Great guns and great cannons,” said John the Red Nose “How will you fetch her?” said Milder to Maulder “O we may not tell you,” said Festle to Foes “On four strong men's shoulders,” said John the Red Nose “That will not do then,” said Milder to Maulder “O what will do then?” said Festle to Foes “Great carts and great waggons,” said John the Red Nose “How will you cut her up?” said Milder to Maulder “O we may not tell you,” said Festle to Foes “With knives and with forks,” said John the Red Nose “That will not do then,” said Milder to Maulder “O what will do then?” said Festle to Foes “With hatchets and cleavers,” said John the Red Nose “How will you boil her?” said Milder to Maulder “We may not tell you,” said Festle to Foes “In pots and in kettles,” said John the Red Nose “That will not do then,” said Milder to Maulder “O what will do then?” said Festle to Foes “A bloody great big cauldron,” said John the Red Nose “Who'll get the spare ribs?” said Milder to Maulder “We may not tell you,” said Festle to Foes “We'll give them all to the poor,” said John the Red Nose