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Old Father Christmas
J. H. EWING THE custom of Christmas-trees came fro...

Christmas And Rome
The first Christmas this in which a Roman Senate has ...

Wassailer's Song
ROBERT SOUTHWELL Wassail! wassail! all over ...

Christmas Under The Snow
OLIVE THORNE MILLER IT WAS just before Christmas, ...

A Christmas Hymn
ALFRED DOMETT It was the calm and silent nig...

Merry Christmas
ANON In the rush of the merry morning, ...

Christmas In The Olden Time
WALTER SCOTT On Christmas-eve the bells were...

So Now Is Come Our Joyfulst Feast


So, now is come our joyfulst feast,
Let every man be jolly;
Each room with ivy leaves is drest,
And every post with holly.
Though some churls at our mirth repine,
Round your foreheads garlands twine;
Drown sorrow in a cup of wine,
And let us all be merry.

Now all our neighbours' chimnies smoke,
And Christmas logs are burning;
Their ovens they with baked meats choke,
And all their spits are turning.
Without the door let sorrow lie;
And if for cold it hap to die,
We'll bury't in a Christmas pie,
And evermore be merry.

Now every lad is wondrous trim,
And no man minds his labour;
Our lasses have provided them
A bag-pipe and a tabor;
Young men and maids, and girls and boys,
Give life to one another's joys;
And you anon shall by their noise
Perceive that they are merry.

Rank misers now do sparing shun;
Their hall of music soundeth;
And dogs thence with whole shoulders run,
So all things there aboundeth.
The country folks themselves advance
For crowdy-mutton's[A] come out of France;
And Jack shall pipe, and Jill shall dance,
And all the town be merry.

[Footnote A: Fiddlers.]

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