Wearing of the Green

Transcript

Oh, say! can you see, by the dawn's early light, The hills that glow in the round? That shall promise my youthful years To grow while I reach ground.

No more saints on Christmas Day will give If sorrow can't be seen. Oh, there is no promise of happiness Though every heart longs for peace. Oh, it is Christmas or something, And it comes to me by the hand And I stand out for all I have done Oh, now that it's done.

Here's a hope still fresh to come to me While there are years to see For there I'll be near, and we'll have fun Oh, every Christmas tree. Oh, it's the time we must dwell In England's cruel red. Oh, now that it's done.

Here's a hope still fresh to come to me While there are years to see For there I'll be near, and we'll have fun Oh, it's the time we must dwell In England's cruel red. Oh, now that it's done. Then I will chase the colour of doom I will, if I could be But till that day May God I'll sing So well below the breeze So well below the breeze

Transcribed by AI from the recording above. These are noisy hundred-year-old cylinders, so expect misheard words and the occasional invented line — trust your ears over the text.