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 food and bring me wine, bring me pine logs hither
Thou and I will see him dine, when we bear him thither.”
Page and monarch forth they went forth they went together
Through the rude wind’s wild lament and the bitter weather


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