The Wran

The wran, the wran, the king of all birds

On St. Stephen’s Day was caught in a furze.

Although he is little, his family’s great,

Put your hands in your pockets and give us a trate.

Sing holly, sing ivy, sing ivy, sing holly

A drop just to drink it would drown melancholy

And if you draw it of the best

We hope in heaven your soul to rest,

But if you draw it of the small,

It won’t agree with the wran boys at all.

Sing holly, sing ivy, sing ivy, sing holly

A drop just to drink it would drown melancholy

And if you draw it of the best

We hope in heaven your soul to rest,

But if you draw it of the small,

It won’t agree with the wran boys at all.