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Green grow'th the holly, so doth the ivy,
Though winter blasts blow ne'er so high,
Green grow'th the holly.
Gay are the flowers, hedgerows and ploughlands,
The days grow longer in the sun,
Soft fall the showers.
Full gold the harvest, grain for thy labor;
With God must work for daily bread
Else, man, thou starvest.
Fast fall the shed leaves, russet and yellow,
But resting buds are snug and safe
Where swung the dead leaves.
Green grow'th the holly, so doth the ivy;
The God of life shall never die.
Hope! saith the holly.
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