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, tho the frost was cruel When a poor man came in sight, gathering winter fuel. Hither, page, an stand by me, if thou knowest 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 St. Agnes fountain. Bring me flesh and bring me wine, bring me pine logs hither Thou and I will see him dine, when we bear them thither. Page and monarch, forth they went, forth they went together Through the rude winds wild lament and the bitter weather. Instrumental:
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