Loreena McKennitt    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.      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.