Green groweth the holly,So doth the ivy.Though winter blasts blow never so high,Green groweth the holly.
As the holly groweth greenAnd never changeth hue,So I am, ever hath been,Unto my lady true.
As the holly groweth greenWith ivy all aloneWhen flowers cannot be seenAnd greenwood leaves be gone,
Now unto my ladyPromise to her I make,From all other onlyTo her I me betake.
Adieu, mine own lady,Adieu, my specialWho hath my heart trulyBe sure, and ever shall.
