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 [Bm]stand [Bm]by me,
If thou knowst it, telling
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and [Bm]what his dwelling?
Sire, he lives a good league hence,
Underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence
By Saint Agnes fountain.

Bring me flesh and [Bm]bring me wine
Bring me pine logs hither
Thou and [Bm]I shall [Em]see him dine
When we bear them [A]thither.
Page and [Bm]monarch, forth they went
Forth they went together
Through the ɾude winds wild lament
And the bitter weather

Sire, the night is darker now
And the wind blows stɾonger
Fails my [A]heart, I know not how
I can go no longer.
Mark my [A]footsteps, good my [A]page
Tread thou in them [A]boldly
Thou shall [Em]find the winters ɾage
Freeze thy blood less coldly.

In his masters step he tɾod
Where the snow lay dinted
Heat was [Am7]in the very sod
Which the Saint had printed
Therefore, Christian men, be [Am]sure
Wealth or ɾank possessing
Ye, who now will bless the poor
Shall [Em]yourselves find blessing.