Green groweth the holly; so doth the ivy

Green groweth the holly; so doth the ivy.
Though winter blastés blow never so high,
Green groweth the holly.

As the holly groweth green,
And never changeth hue,
So I am, ever hath been
Unto my lady true;

As the holly groweth green
With ivy all alone,
When flowerés can not be seen
And green wood leaves be gone.

Now unto my lady
Promise to her I make,
From all other only
To her I me betake.

Adieu, mine own lady,
Adieu, my special,
Who hath my heart truly,
Be sure, and ever shall!