Lyrics
by John Mason Neale (1853)
Traditional Finnish melody performed by The
Irish Rovers Video
source: YouTube
Good King Wenceslaus 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 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 pinelogs 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 wind's wild lament, and the bitter
weather.
Sire the night is darker now,
and the wind blows stronger,
Fails my heart, I know not how, I can go no
longer.
Mark my footsteps my good page, tread thou in them
boldly,
Thou shalt find the winter's rage freeze thy blood
less coldly.
In his master's steps he trod
where the snow lay dinted,
Heat was in the very sod which the saint had
printed.
Therefore Christian men be sure, wealth or rank
possessing,
Ye who now will bless the poor, shall yourselves find
blessing.