‘The holly and the ivy,
Now are both well grown,
Of all the trees that are in the wood,
The holly bears the crown’
A traditional English carol (Roud Folk Song Index 514)
AS a son of the country, I do not care to be without holly at Christmas, its sprigs popped behind paintings on walls, a single sprig propped in the centre of the brandy-flamed pudding. I cut the holly for decoration yesterday evening, from a lone tree in the centre of the wood, a location secret and too obscure for the invading, berry-gobbling host of Viking birds, the redwings
