The holly bears the crown. Oh the rising of the sun, The running of the deer.
All merry folk arise and sing To greet the dawning year.
And the ivy grows beneath the snows That blanket all the wood. Oh the holly bears a blossom As white as any flower, And the ivy turns the winter wood To a green and leafy bower. In the skies above us all. Oh the holly bears a prickle As sharp as any thorn, And the ivy climbs on hills and towers To greet the Yuletide morn.