Good King Wentsofast looked out
On the Feets of Stephen
Where the dough lay round about
Deep and crisp and even
Brightly shone the Goon that night
Though his tax was cruel
When a poor man came in sight
Gathering winter fuel
Hither, page, and stand by me,
If thou knowst it, telling
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?
Sire, he lives a good east hence
Underneath the pogey
Right against our last defence
For a Liberal Bogey
Bring me cash and bring me swine
Bring my real friends hither
Thou and I shall make them moan
When we beat them blither
Page and monarch, forth they went
Forth they went together
Through the rude westerners wild lament
And the bitter weather
Sire, the night is darker now
And the wind blows stronger
Fails my heart, I know not now
That we will be here much longer.
Mark my footsteps, good my page
Tread thou in them boldly
Thou shall find the voters rage
Freeze thy blood less coldly.
In his masters step he trod
Where the snow lay dinted
Yellow was in the very sod
Which the Saint had printed
Therefore,fellow citizens be sure
Wealth or rank possessing
Ye, who now will bless the poor
Will soon find yourself among them