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I Happy by the hearth sit the lasses and the lads, now, Roasting of their chestnuts, toasting of their toes! When the door is opened to a blithe new-comer, Stamping like a ploughman to shuffle off the snows; Rosy flower-like faces through the soft red firelight Float as if to greet us, far away at sea, Sigh as they remember, and turn the sigh to laughter, Kiss beneath the mistletoe and wonder at their glee. With their "heigh ho, the holly! This life is most jolly!" Christmas-time is kissing-time, Away with melancholy! II Ah, the Yule of England, the happy Yule of England, Yule of berried holly and the merry mistletoe; The boar's head, the brown ale, the blue snap dragon, Yule of groaning tables and the crimson log aglow! Yule, the golden bugle to the scattered old companions, Ringing as with laughter, shining as through tears! Loved of little children, oh guard the holy Yuletide, Guard it, men of England, for the child beyond the years. With its "heigh ho, the holly!" Away with melancholy! Christmas-time is kissing-time, "This life is most jolly!" |