Provide good cheer, yourselves enjoy,
And all your needless cares destroy
With harmless mirth, and best of cheer,
Good wine, or ale, or humming beer,
And merry Christmas crown the year.
CHRISTMAS PAST AND PRESENT.
(From "Poor Robin's Almanack," 1739.)
Now Christmas comes with frost and snow,
When men do feast, or should do so;
When lusty diet, and the bowl
Should round about the table troll,
And cooks prepare their poignant meat
To teach the palate how to eat,
And every dish invites the sight
To a new hungry appetite;
The while musicians sing and play,
With mirth to drive the time away.
For mirth, being mixed with our meat,
Gives better appetite to eat.
But now the times are altered so,
When Christmas is, we scarce can know
But for these two things put together,-
Men's hearts are hard, so is the weather.
But which are hardest of the two?
Men's hearts are, without more ado.
O, may those who have richest store,
And do refuse to feast the poor,
Whilst they are served with every dish
That coin can buy, or heart can wish-
O may they still have store of meat,
But stomach none, the same to eat.
WASSAILER'S SONG.
(From Brand's "Popular Antiquities.")
WASSAIL! Wassail! all over the town,
Our toast it is white, our ale it is brown:
Our bowl it is made of a maplin tree,
We be good fellows all-I drink to thee.
Here's to Dobbin, and to his right ear,
God send our master a happy New Year;
A happy New Year as e'er he did see-
With my Wassailing Bowl I drink to thee.
Here's to Smiler, and to his right eye,
God send our mistress a good Christmas pie;
As good Christmas pie as e'er I did see-
With my Wassailing Bowl I drink to thee.
Here's to Fillpail, and to her long tail,
God send our master us never may fail
Of a cup of good beer: I pray you draw near,
And our jolly Wassail it's then you shall hear.
Be here any maids? I suppose there be some—
Sure they'll not let young men stand on the cold stone;
Sing hey O maids, come trole back the pin,
And the fairest maid in the house let us in.
Come, butler, come bring us a bowl of the best,
And I'll hope your soul in heaven will rest:
But if you do bring us a bowl of the small,
Then down may fall butler, and bowl, and all.
(From "Round about our Coal Fire," 1734.)
YOU merry, merry souls,
Christmas is a coming;
We shall have flowing bowls,
Dancing, piping, drumming.
Delicate minced pies,
To feast every virgin,
Capon and goose likewise,
Brawn, and dish of sturgeon.
O WINTER, ruler of the inverted year,
Thy scattered hair with sleet like ashes filled,
Thy breath congealed upon thy lips, thy cheeks
Fringed with a beard made white with other snows
Than those of age, thy forehead wrapped in clouds,
A leafless branch thy sceptre, and thy throne
A sliding car, indebted to no wheels,
But urged by storms along its slippery way,
I love thee, all unlovely as thou seem'st,
And dreaded as thou art! Thou hold'st the sun
A prisoner in the yet undawning east,
Shortening his journey between morn and noon,
And hurrying him, impatient of his stay,
Down to the rosy west; but kindly still
Compensating his loss with added hours
Of social converse and instructive ease,
And gathering, at short notice, in one group,
The family dispersed, and fixing thought,
Not less dispersed by daylight and its cares.
I crown thee king of intimate delights,
Fireside enjoyments, homeborn happiness,
And all the comforts that the lowly roof
Of undisturbed retirement, and the hours
Of long uninterrupted evening know.
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