Good King Wenceslas

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 know 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.