Into the great hall they come, 
On the shortest day
Merrily they carol
And merrily they pray.
The holly wreath is offered 
As they light the fire.
The old Yule log it's kindling, 
Flaming the new one higher.
Then the dance begins,
And celebration reigns.
The Winter King is dead
The Sun breaks loose its chains.
Down the icy halls of time, 
Ever the Winter King rules
Until the Sun shakes off the rime
To welcome in the Yule.

Poem Copyright 2000 by Caitlin McKnelly

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