For that old love I once adored
I deck my halls and spread my board
With all the winter's flowers that grow
I wreathe my room, and mistletoe
Hangs in the gloom of my doorway,
Wherein my dear lost love might stray
When joy bells chime.
What phantom was it entered there
And drunk his wine and took his chair
With holly boughs and mistletoe
He crowned his head, and at my woe
And tears I shed laughed long and loud;
'Get back, O phantom! to thy shroud
When joy bells chime.'