The misty dawn has broken on this shortest day.
The Holly King, in winter's green, is ready for the fray.
For half a year the leafy crown has rested on his brow.
To take the crown and cut him down is his brother's vow.
For six long months he ruled within his forest hold.
Throughout his reign, the foliate king, felt himself grow old.
The crown of leaves grew heavy still, the end was in his sight.
His weapons honed and armor shone, he readied for the fight.
The younger king was born, to issue challenge bold.
And take his place, with youthful grace, his brow to wear the gold.
His battle skills sharpened, the verdant crown, is his by right.
With shield of yew and sword new he went forth to show his might.
Twin brothers take the field, to battle for the crown.
The steal blades sing, they fight to bring each other to the ground.
With fatal strike the crown of green falls from his regal head.
He's proved his worth, the blood pours forth, his brother lies there dead.
The misty dawn has broken on this longest day.
The Oaken King, in summer's green, is ready for the fray.
For half a year the leafy crown has rested on his brow.
To take the crown and cut him down is his brother's vow.