  I I HEAR along our street Pass the minstrel throngs: Hark! they play so sweet, On their hautboys, Christmas songs! Let us by the fire Ever higher Sing them till the night expire! In December ring, Every day the chimes; Loud the gleemen sing, In the streets, their merry rhymes. Let us, &c. Shepherds at the grange, Where the Babe was born, Sang with many a change, Christmas carols until morn. These good people sang, Songs devout and sweet, While the rafters rang, There they stood with freezing feet. Let us, &c. Nuns in frigid cells, At this holy tide, For want of something else, Christmas songs at times have tried. Let us, &c. Washerwomen old, To the sound they beat, Sing by rivers cold, With uncovered heads and feet. Let us, &c. Who by the fireside stands, Stamps his feet and sings; But he who blows his hands, Not so gay a carol brings. Let us by the fire Ever higher Sing them till the night expire. decoration |
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