Now once more the year has run
(Sun succeeding sceptred sun)
To the time of hallowed birth,
To the holiest tide of earth;
Out with sadness! out with sin!
Let us hail the Christ-Child in!
While we lift our thanks for thrift,
Praise the giver and the gift,
With the holly, berried bright,
Druid ivy sprays unite!—
Long they both have sacred been;
Let us hail the Christ-Child in!
And the back-log,—let it be
From some ancient forest tree
Great of girth, that flames may roar
Up the chimney high and hoar,
Thus to swell our merry din;
Let us hail the Christ-Child in!
Far into the night with song
Let us the old rites prolong!
Cry, “Noel! noel! noel!”
Until peals the midnight bell!
If we peace and love would win,
Let us hail the Christ-Child in!
Neil MacDonald
“Whither away, O Neil MacDonald?
Whither away so fleet hie ye?”
“I have a tryst to keep, my mother,
Under the boughs of the holly tree!”
“Go ye not, O Neil MacDonald!
Go ye not, prithee! prithee!”
“I must keep the tryst, my mother,
Under the boughs of the holly tree!”
Into the night leaps Neil MacDonald;
Every man has a weird to dree;
He will dree his weird this Yule-tide
Under the boughs of the holly tree.
In the north the pale auroras
Flash and waver spectrally;
But the purple shadows slumber
Under the boughs of the holly tree.
Over the burn bounds Neil MacDonald;
Through the bracken plunges he;
He has won to the purple shadows
Under the boughs of the holly tree.