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 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 St Agnes Fountain"

Bring me bread and bring me wine
Bring me pine logs hither
Thou and I shall see him dine
When be bear them thither
Page and monarch forth they went
Forth they went together
Through the rude winds wild lament
And the bitter weather

In his masters steps he trod
Where the snow lay dinted
Heat was in the very sod
Which the Saint had printed
Therefore all you men be sure
Wealth or rank posessing
He who now shall bless the poor
Shall yourselves find Blessing