With Christmas cheer the hall is bright, At friendly feud with winter's cold; There's many a merry game to-night For maids and men, the young and old; And winter sends for their delight The holly with its crimson glow, And paler than the glistening snow The mistletoe, the mistletoe. The mistletoe! The mistletoe! The wan and wanton mistletoe!
Chance comer to our festal eyes, Dear crimson-breasted holly-sprite! Thee, Robin, too, the hall receives, Unbidden, whom our hearts invite. And perched among the crumply leaves, He cocks his head and sings, Hullo! The mistletoe, the mistletoe Hangs up above, but what's below? Oh! What's below the mistletoe? The mistletoe, the mistletoe!
A kindly custom sanctions bliss That's ta'en beneath the wanton bough. Who laughs so low? Why, here it is! Look, Jenny, where I have you now! Dear bashful eyes! Sweet lips —a kiss! Ah! Cheeks can mock the holly's glow! For what's below the mistletoe? Ah! Ha! Why, it is Cupid O! Ah! Ha! Below the mistletoe 'Tis Cupid O! 'Tis Cupid O! —H.C. Temple Bar. January, 1893, p. 22.