Oh the holly and the ivy, When they are both full-grown. Of all the trees that are in the wood, The holly tree 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 tree bears a leaf, As green as any grass, And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ, Who died upon the cross.
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 tree bears a blossom
As white as any milk, And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ, All wrapp-ed up in silk.
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 tree bears a berry, As red as any blood, And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ, To do poor sinners good.
Oh, the rising of the sun, And the running of the deer; The playing of the merry organ, Sweet singing all in the choir.
And the holly tree bears a bark, As bitter as any gall, And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ, For to redeem us all.
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 tree bears a prickle, As sharp as any thorn, And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ, On Christmas Day in the morn.
Oh, the rising of the sun, And the running of the deer; The playing of the merry organ, Sweet singing all in the choir.