Good King Wenceslaus

Good King Wenceslaus looked out On the Feast Of Stephen When the snow lay round about Deep and crisp and even. Brightly shone the moon that night Though the frost was cruel When a poor man came in sight gathering winter fuel. Hither, Paige, and stand by me, if thou knowest telling Yonder poor man who is he? Where and what's his dwelling? Sire he lives a good league hence, Underneath the mountain right beside the forest fence By Saint Agnes' Fountain. Bring me flesh and bring me wine. Bring me pine logs hither. Thou and I shall see him dine as we bare them thither. Paige and Monarch forth they went, forth they went together Through the rude wind's wild lament and the bitter weather. Sire, the night grows darker and the wind blows much stronger Marks my strength I know not how. I can go no longer. Mark my footsteps, my good Paige tread thou in them boldly. Thou shalt find the Winter's rage freeze they blood less coldly. In his master's steps he trod, where the snow lay dented. Heat was in the very sod which the Saint had printed. Therefore Christian men be sure, wealth or rank possessing You who now will bless the poor shall yourselves find blessing.