Over the snow, O the cold frosty snow,
With light tripping steps we haste and go.
Where the wintly breezes can't blow,
And ice doesn't freeze little mortals below.
Yon understands the old church tower,
Soon we'll win beneath its shelter,
Running companions helter skelter,
Trot, trot along, come trot, come trot along.

Sing little birds, in the ivy about us,
Carol your sweetest lay of love,
While the bells rein in glory above us,
And the old hymns ev'ry heart straight doth move,
Sing aloud in praise of Christmas,
Bells and birds and happy children:
Hark the gladsome song doth swell,
As ding dong a ding a dong, goes every bell.