5. Green Groweth the Holly
—— Henry VIII
Green groweth the holly,
So doth the ivy.
Though winter blasts blow never so high,
Green groweth the holly.
As the holly groweth green,
And never geth hue,
So I am, ever hath been,
Unto my lady true.
As the holly groweth green
With ivy all alone
When flowers ot be en
And greenwood leaves be gone,
Now unto my lady,
Promi to her I make
From all other only
To her I me betake.
Adieu, mine owne lady,
Adieu, my speciall,
Who hath my heart truly,
Be sure, and ever shall.