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
Gathering winter fuel
Hither page and stand by me if thou know 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 shall 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
In his master's steps he trod
Where the snow lay dinted it was in the very sad
Which the saint had printed
Therefore christian men be sure
Wealth or ring possessing
He who know will bless the poor
Shall yourselves find blessing
Party Tyme
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