The wind may shout as it likes without; It may rage, but cannot harm us; For a merrier din shall resound within, And our Christmas cheer will warm us.
There is gladness to all at its ancient call, While its ruddy fires are gleaming, And from far and near, o'er the landscape drear, The Christmas light is streaming.
All the frozen ground is in fetters bound; Ho! the yule-log we will burn it; For Christmas is come in ev'ry home, To summer our hearts will turn it.
There is gladness to all at its ancient call, While its ruddy fires are gleaming; And from far and near, o'er the landscape drear, The Christmas light is streaming.
