Christmas Carol.
Old Christmas comes on with his snow-white hair,But a step most firm and free,With his eye so bright, and his laugh so light,For a jocund blade is he.Christmas! Christmas!Hurrah! for bonny old Christmas!With his eye so bright,And his laugh so light—Hurrah! for bonny old Christmas!He trips round the farm with a cheerful step,And sees all the work is done.Oh! come hither, he cries, my boys and girls,Come into the hall for fun.Christmas! Christmas!Hurrah! for merry old Christmas!With his hair so white,And his look of delight—Hurrah! for merry old Christmas!He loves to peep at the family hearth,Where parents and children join,In their household jokes and innocent mirth,Whilst their sparkling bright eyes shine.Christmas! Christmas!Hurrah! for social old Christmas!With his rosy cheek,And his form so sleek—Hurrah! for social old Christmas!He heaps up his board with plentiful cheer,He brings out his cakes and wine,To give a glad heart to the good old year,And warmth in his cold decline.Christmas! Christmas!Hurrah! for loving old Christmas!With his healthy hue,And his heart so true—Hurrah! for loving old Christmas!He heeds not the sleet on his window pane,Nor the storm against the door;He sits by the fire, his hand in his purse,And gives out gold for the poor.Christmas! Christmas!Hurrah! for gen’rous old Christmas!With his purse of gold,For the poor and old—Hurrah! for gen’rous old Christmas!How he loves to list to the old church bellsRinging out their ancient tune;Whilst he thinks on One, till his good heart swells,Bringing earth her richest boon!Christmas! Christmas!We hail thee pious old Christmas!Of the pure heart fraught,With most sacred thought—We hail thee pious old Christmas!
Old Christmas comes on with his snow-white hair,But a step most firm and free,With his eye so bright, and his laugh so light,For a jocund blade is he.Christmas! Christmas!Hurrah! for bonny old Christmas!With his eye so bright,And his laugh so light—Hurrah! for bonny old Christmas!He trips round the farm with a cheerful step,And sees all the work is done.Oh! come hither, he cries, my boys and girls,Come into the hall for fun.Christmas! Christmas!Hurrah! for merry old Christmas!With his hair so white,And his look of delight—Hurrah! for merry old Christmas!He loves to peep at the family hearth,Where parents and children join,In their household jokes and innocent mirth,Whilst their sparkling bright eyes shine.Christmas! Christmas!Hurrah! for social old Christmas!With his rosy cheek,And his form so sleek—Hurrah! for social old Christmas!He heaps up his board with plentiful cheer,He brings out his cakes and wine,To give a glad heart to the good old year,And warmth in his cold decline.Christmas! Christmas!Hurrah! for loving old Christmas!With his healthy hue,And his heart so true—Hurrah! for loving old Christmas!He heeds not the sleet on his window pane,Nor the storm against the door;He sits by the fire, his hand in his purse,And gives out gold for the poor.Christmas! Christmas!Hurrah! for gen’rous old Christmas!With his purse of gold,For the poor and old—Hurrah! for gen’rous old Christmas!How he loves to list to the old church bellsRinging out their ancient tune;Whilst he thinks on One, till his good heart swells,Bringing earth her richest boon!Christmas! Christmas!We hail thee pious old Christmas!Of the pure heart fraught,With most sacred thought—We hail thee pious old Christmas!
Old Christmas comes on with his snow-white hair,But a step most firm and free,With his eye so bright, and his laugh so light,For a jocund blade is he.Christmas! Christmas!Hurrah! for bonny old Christmas!With his eye so bright,And his laugh so light—Hurrah! for bonny old Christmas!
Old Christmas comes on with his snow-white hair,
But a step most firm and free,
With his eye so bright, and his laugh so light,
For a jocund blade is he.
Christmas! Christmas!
Hurrah! for bonny old Christmas!
With his eye so bright,
And his laugh so light—
Hurrah! for bonny old Christmas!
He trips round the farm with a cheerful step,And sees all the work is done.Oh! come hither, he cries, my boys and girls,Come into the hall for fun.Christmas! Christmas!Hurrah! for merry old Christmas!With his hair so white,And his look of delight—Hurrah! for merry old Christmas!
He trips round the farm with a cheerful step,
And sees all the work is done.
Oh! come hither, he cries, my boys and girls,
Come into the hall for fun.
Christmas! Christmas!
Hurrah! for merry old Christmas!
With his hair so white,
And his look of delight—
Hurrah! for merry old Christmas!
He loves to peep at the family hearth,Where parents and children join,In their household jokes and innocent mirth,Whilst their sparkling bright eyes shine.Christmas! Christmas!Hurrah! for social old Christmas!With his rosy cheek,And his form so sleek—Hurrah! for social old Christmas!
He loves to peep at the family hearth,
Where parents and children join,
In their household jokes and innocent mirth,
Whilst their sparkling bright eyes shine.
Christmas! Christmas!
Hurrah! for social old Christmas!
With his rosy cheek,
And his form so sleek—
Hurrah! for social old Christmas!
He heaps up his board with plentiful cheer,He brings out his cakes and wine,To give a glad heart to the good old year,And warmth in his cold decline.Christmas! Christmas!Hurrah! for loving old Christmas!With his healthy hue,And his heart so true—Hurrah! for loving old Christmas!
He heaps up his board with plentiful cheer,
He brings out his cakes and wine,
To give a glad heart to the good old year,
And warmth in his cold decline.
Christmas! Christmas!
Hurrah! for loving old Christmas!
With his healthy hue,
And his heart so true—
Hurrah! for loving old Christmas!
He heeds not the sleet on his window pane,Nor the storm against the door;He sits by the fire, his hand in his purse,And gives out gold for the poor.Christmas! Christmas!Hurrah! for gen’rous old Christmas!With his purse of gold,For the poor and old—Hurrah! for gen’rous old Christmas!
He heeds not the sleet on his window pane,
Nor the storm against the door;
He sits by the fire, his hand in his purse,
And gives out gold for the poor.
Christmas! Christmas!
Hurrah! for gen’rous old Christmas!
With his purse of gold,
For the poor and old—
Hurrah! for gen’rous old Christmas!
How he loves to list to the old church bellsRinging out their ancient tune;Whilst he thinks on One, till his good heart swells,Bringing earth her richest boon!Christmas! Christmas!We hail thee pious old Christmas!Of the pure heart fraught,With most sacred thought—We hail thee pious old Christmas!
How he loves to list to the old church bells
Ringing out their ancient tune;
Whilst he thinks on One, till his good heart swells,
Bringing earth her richest boon!
Christmas! Christmas!
We hail thee pious old Christmas!
Of the pure heart fraught,
With most sacred thought—
We hail thee pious old Christmas!