Oh the holly and the ivy,
When they are both full-grown.
Of all the trees that are in the wood,
The holly tree bears the crown.

Oh, the rising of the sun,
And the running of the deer;
The playing of the merry organ,
Sweet singing all in the choir.

The holly tree bears a leaf,
As green as any grass,
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ,
Who died upon the cross.

Oh, the rising of the sun,
And the running of the deer;
The playing of the merry organ,
Sweet singing all in the choir. 

The holly tree bears a blossom
As white as any milk,
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ,
All wrapp-ed up in silk.

Oh, the rising of the sun,
And the running of the deer;
The playing of the merry organ,
Sweet singing all in the choir.

The holly tree bears a berry,
As red as any blood,
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ,
To do poor sinners good.

Oh, the rising of the sun,
And the running of the deer;
The playing of the merry organ,
Sweet singing all in the choir.

And the holly tree bears a bark,
As bitter as any gall,
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ,
For to redeem us all.

Oh, the rising of the sun,
And the running of the deer;
The playing of the merry organ,
Sweet singing all in the choir.

The holly tree bears a prickle,
As sharp as any thorn,
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ,
On Christmas Day in the morn.

Oh, the rising of the sun,
And the running of the deer;
The playing of the merry organ,
Sweet singing all in the choir.