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  • Loreena Mc
    KennittThe holly and the ivy
    When they are full grown,
    Of all the trees in the wood
    The holly bears the crown.
    The rising of the sun
    The running of the deer,
    The playing of the organ
    Sweet singing in the choir.
    The holly wears a blossom
    As white as any flower,
    And Mary bore sweet
    Jesus Christ
    To be our
    Saviour.The rising of the sun,
    The running of the deer,
    The playing of the organ,
    Sweet singing in the choir.
    The holly bears a berry
    As red as any blood,
    And Mary bore sweet
    Jesus Christ
    To do sinners good.
    The rising of the sun,
    The running of the deer,
    The playing of the organ,
    Sweet singing in the choir.
    The holly bears a prickle
    As sharp as any thorn,
    And Mary bore sweet
    Jesus Christ
    On Christmas
    Day in the morn.
    The rising of the sun,
    The running of the deer,
    The playing of the organ,
    Sweet singing in the choir.
    The holly bears a bark
    As bitter as any gall,
    And Mary bore sweet
    Jesus Christ,
    To redeem us all.
    The rising of the sun,
    The running of the deer,
    The playing of the organ,
    Sweet singing in the choir.
    The holly and the ivy,
    When they are full grown,
    Of all the trees in the wood,
    The holly bears the crown.
    The rising of the sun,
    The running of the deer,
    The playing of the organ,
    Sweet singing in the choir.
  • Loreena Mc
    KennittThe holly and the ivy
    When they are full grown,
    Of all the trees in the wood
    The holly bears the crown.
    The rising of the sun
    The running of the deer,
    The playing of the organ
    Sweet singing in the choir.
    The holly wears a blossom
    As white as any flower,
    And Mary bore sweet
    Jesus Christ
    To be our
    Saviour.The rising of the sun,
    The running of the deer,
    The playing of the organ,
    Sweet singing in the choir.
    The holly bears a berry
    As red as any blood,
    And Mary bore sweet
    Jesus Christ
    To do sinners good.
    The rising of the sun,
    The running of the deer,
    The playing of the organ,
    Sweet singing in the choir.
    The holly bears a prickle
    As sharp as any thorn,
    And Mary bore sweet
    Jesus Christ
    On Christmas
    Day in the morn.
    The rising of the sun,
    The running of the deer,
    The playing of the organ,
    Sweet singing in the choir.
    The holly bears a bark
    As bitter as any gall,
    And Mary bore sweet
    Jesus Christ,
    To redeem us all.
    The rising of the sun,
    The running of the deer,
    The playing of the organ,
    Sweet singing in the choir.
    The holly and the ivy,
    When they are full grown,
    Of all the trees in the wood,
    The holly bears the crown.
    The rising of the sun,
    The running of the deer,
    The playing of the organ,
    Sweet singing in the choir.