Now he who knows old Christmas,
He knows a carle of worth;
For he is a good fellow
As any upon earth.
He comes warm-cloaked and coated,
And buttoned up to the chin,
And soon as he comes a-nigh the door
We open and let him in.
We know that he will not fail us,
So we sweep the hearth up clean;
We set him in the old armchair,
And a cushion whereon to lean.
And with sprigs of holly and ivy
We make the house look gay,
Just out of an old regard to him,
For it was his ancient way.
He must be a rich old fellow:
What money he gives away!
There is not a lord in England
Could equal him any day.
Good luck unto old Christmas,
And long life, let us sing,
For he doth more good unto the poor
Than many a crowned king!