Oh, Here's to the Holly
W. M. Logan, Music E. J. Loder

Oh, here's to the holly that cures melancholy;
And hangs in the hall at Christmas time,
When wit sparkles out and wassailers shout
A stave of Christmas rhyme.
With berries red he smiles on high,
Enthroned with his mistletoe bride-
While love lights up each maiden's eye
Who blushes her swain beside.

Oh, the holly's the tree- youth doats upon thee,
Thine innocent folly age glories to see-
All ages love thee- all ages love thee-
The holly's the tree for me.

Oh, here's to the holly that kills melancholy,
And makes the board merry at festive time;
When old English cheer awakes the New Year,
And bells at midnight chime.
May all our friends in health survive
The year that to-morrow shall be;
May kindness keep that love alive
Men's hearts e'er delights to see.

Oh, the holly's etc.

Oh, here's to the holly that kills malancholy,
That gladdens each heart with twelfth-night rhyme-
When each takes a part with right merry heart,
To make the most of time.
How many meet by chance tonight,
To sport 'neath the mistletoe bough-
Whose hearts will speak and breasts unite,
Ere whisper'd a word or vow.

Oh, the holly's etc.

J. E. Carpenter, ed, The Book of Modern Songs, G. Routledge, London, 1858.
On line, book found by Jim Dixon.
http://books.google.com/books?id=omICAAAAQAAJ&pg=PA117#v=onepage&q&f=false