Good King Wenceslas 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
Gathring winter fuel
Hither page and stand by me
If thou knowst it telling
Yonder peasant who is he
Where and what his dwelling
Sire he lives a good league hence
Underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence
By Saint Agnes fountain
Bring me flesh and bring me wine
Bring me pine logs hither
Thou and I will see him dine
When we bear him thither
Page and monarch forth they went
Forth they went together
Through the rude winds wild lament
And the bitter weather