The wren, the wren, the king of all birds, in Saint Stephen's day he was caught in the furze. We hunted him up, and we hunted him down, we hunted him into Riverstick town, from bush to bush, from tree to tree and over the river we broke his, knee. The wren, the wren, that, you may see he is guarded on a holly tree, a bunch of ribbons by his side, and the Riverstick boys to be his guide, up with the kettle, and down with the pot, sing holly, sing ivy the wren, he is caught.
I have a little box under my arm, two or three pence would do it no hearm, give us oyr answer, and let us be off.
- Jerry Murphy
- Arlinstown, Co. Cork