For that is our dear Aunt Mary’s tree.
Its leaves are sweet with our Saviour’s Name,
’Tis a plant that loves the poor:
Summer and winter it shines the same
Beside the cottage door.
O! the holly with her drops of blood for me:
For that is our kind Aunt Mary’s tree.
’Tis a bush that the birds will never leave:
They sing in it all day long;
But sweetest of all upon Christmas Eve