
Good King Wenceslaus looked out on the Feast of Stephen
And the snow lay´round about deep and crisp and even
Bryghtly shome the moon that night though the frost was cruel
When a poor man came in sight gath´ring winter fuel
Hither page comes stand by me if though knowest it telling
Yonder peasant who is he where and what his dwelling
Sire he lives a good league hence down beneath the montain
Right against the forest fence by Saint Agnes´fountain
Bring me food and bring me wine bring me pine logs hither
You and I shall see him dine when we bear them thither
Page and monarch forth they went together
Through the gold wind´s wild lament throught the litter weather