smoked out on the feast of Stephen
When the snow lay round about,
Brightly shone the moon that night,
though the frost was cruel
When a poor man came in sight,
Hither, page, and stand by me,
If thou know'st it telling,
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?
Sire, he lives a goodly kins
Right against the forest fence
Bring me flesh and bring me wine
Bring me pine logs hither
Thou and I will see him dine
Page and monarch, forth they went,
Through the rude winds, wild lament,
and the wind blows stronger.
Fails my heart, I know not how,
Mark my footsteps, my good page,
tread thou in them boldly.
Thou shalt find the winter's rage,
freeze thy bloodless coolie.
In his master's steps he trod,
where the snow lay dinted.
Heed was in the very psalm
which the saint had printed.
Therefore, Christian men,
Wealth or rank possessing,
Ye who now will bless the poor,
Shall yourselves find blessing. you