 | The Poetical Works of Andrew Lang |  |
230
Ballade of Yule
This
life's most jolly, Amiens said,
Heigh-ho, the holly! So sang he.
As the good duke was comforted
In forest exile, so may we!
The years may darken as they flee,
And Christmas bring his melancholy:
But round the old mahogany tree
We drink, we sing Heigh-ho, the holly!
Heigh-ho, the holly! So sang he.
As the good duke was comforted
In forest exile, so may we!
The years may darken as they flee,
And Christmas bring his melancholy:
But round the old mahogany tree
We drink, we sing Heigh-ho, the holly!
Though some are dead and some are fled
To lands of summer over sea,
The holly berry keeps his red,
The merry children keep their glee;
They hoard with artless secrecy
This gift for Maude, and that for Molly,
And Santa Claus he turns the key
On Christmas Eve, Heigh-ho, the holly!
To lands of summer over sea,
The holly berry keeps his red,
The merry children keep their glee;
They hoard with artless secrecy
This gift for Maude, and that for Molly,
And Santa Claus he turns the key
On Christmas Eve, Heigh-ho, the holly!
231
Amid the snow the birds are fed,
The snow lies deep on lawn and lea;
The skies are shining overhead,
The robin's tame that was so free.
Far north, at home, the ‘barley bree’
They brew; they give the hour to folly,
How ‘Rab and Allan came to pree’,
They sing, we sing, Heigh-ho, the holly!
The snow lies deep on lawn and lea;
The skies are shining overhead,
The robin's tame that was so free.
Far north, at home, the ‘barley bree’
They brew; they give the hour to folly,
How ‘Rab and Allan came to pree’,
They sing, we sing, Heigh-ho, the holly!
Envoy
Friend, let us pay the wonted fee,The yearly tithe of mirth: be jolly!
It is a duty so to be,
Though half we sigh, Heigh-ho, the holly!
| The Poetical Works of Andrew Lang | |