The holly and the ivy, when they are both gone, O the trees that are in the wood, the holly bears their crown. O the rising of the sun, and the running of the deer, O the playing of the organ, sweet singing in the choir. The holly bears a blossom, as white as any flower, O Mary, who sweeps Jesus Christ to be your sweet Saviour. O the rising of the sun, and the running of the deer, O the playing of the organ, sweet singing in the choir. The holly bears a berry, as red as any blood, O Mary, who sweeps Jesus Christ to do for sinners good. O the rising of the sun, and the running of the deer, O the playing of the organ, sweet singing in the choir. The holly bears a prairie, as sharp as any bow, O Mary, who sweeps Jesus Christ on Christmas Day in the morn. O the rising of the sun, and the running of the deer, O the playing of the organ, sweet singing in the choir. The holly bears a bark, as bitter as any gall, O Mary, who sweeps Jesus Christ to redeem us all. O the rising of the sun, and the running of the deer, O the playing of the organ, sweet singing, sweet singing, singing in the choir.