In times gone by, Heathens raged,
In northland forests verily aged,
Where the Thunder Oak,
Of God Thor they spoke,
In honor of the oak they engaged.

Heathen priests brought their sacrifice,
both men and beasts, blood was the price,
There in the darkness,
Was done much evilness,
Blood poured, the trees thirst to suffice!

Upon the doom tress branches did grow,
The dependant plant called a mistletoe,
Its life was gained,
And there sustained,
The spot where animals feared to go!

Long ago, on a white winters Christmas Eve,
Thor's priests held rites without repreive,
Through the deep snow,
Heathens on would go,
Sacrificing for Thor's blessing to receive!

They were intent upon living oldest lore,
Keeping the mystic feast of mighty Thor,
In the hush of the night,
They were a gruesome sight,
White-robed priests at ready knives bore!

But knives never fell, in sacrement gorest,
From the silent avenues of the dark forest,
The good Saint Winfred came,
Intent the place to reclaim,
For upon the pagan tree his ax came to rest!

As in horror gazed on the heathen folk,
Fiercely he smote the oak of blood soak,
Back it fell like a tower,
Smote by Winfreds power,
Thus, the end of great Thor's old Oak!

Just behind it, unharmed by oak riven,
Was an evergreen fir, spire to Heaven,
St. Winfred in his great might,
Said"This Tree is Christ White"
Thus were we the Christmas tree Given!

"This little tree, a young child of the wood,
Shall represent all that is right and good,
For as your houses were,
This tree is made of Fir,
Henceforth it will shelter no deeds of blood!"

But loving gifts and in rites of kindness,
Worship one true god in my like mindness,
See how it doth upward point,
This tree I now do appoint,
As the Christ Child, worship not blindness.

And with songs of joy the pagan multitude,
Took upon themselves more humble attitude,
Took home the Fir tree,
For there chief to see,
And spoke to Winfred in songs of Gratitude!

Now, you may say that this Winfred Saint,
Converted the heathens, but that it aint,
The way he did convert 'em,
Was the fear he'd hurt 'em,
Alas did forsooth he their conversions taint!