King Wenceslas looked out
On Saint Stephen’s feast,
“There is too much snow about
And it’s far too deep.”
Brightly shone the moon that night
Though the frost was cruel,
When a poor man came in sight, gath’ring winter fuel.

“Bring me flesh and bring me red wine,
Bring me pine logs hither,
You and I are going to dine
Though it’s no good for my liver.
I have got an appetite,
Pass me another plate.
Please check tomorrow’s forecast ’cos the hour is getting late.”
Underneath the mountain
Page and monarch went,
Heading for Saint Agnes’ fountain.
Against the forest fence.

Outside in the cold distance
Wenceslas did pray,
“I know this snow is seasonal
But I hope it goes away!”

Underneath the mountain.