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Christmas Waits In Boston
I. I always give myself a Christmas present. And o...

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

The Glorious Song Of Old
EDMUND H. SEARS It came upon the midnight cl...

Sly Santa Claus
MRS. C.S. STONE All the house was asleep, ...

Christmas
WASHINGTON IRVING But is old, old, good old Chri...

The Trail Through The Forest
Two years had passed, to a day, almost to an hour, si...

A Christmas Dream And How It Came True
"I'm so tired of Christmas I wish there never would b...





Wassailer's Song






ROBERT SOUTHWELL

Wassail! wassail! all over the town,
Our toast it is white, and our ale it is brown;
Our bowl is made of a maplin tree;
We be good fellows all;--I drink to thee.

Here's to our horse, and to his right ear,
God send 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 our mare, and to her right eye,
God send our mistress a good Christmas pie;
A good Christmas pie as e'er I did see,--
With my wassailing bowl I drink to thee.

Here's to our cow, and to her long tail,
God send our measter 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 here be some;
Sure they will 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 all in.

Come, butler, come, bring us a bowl of the best;
I hope your soul in heaven will rest;
But if you do bring us a bowl of the small,
Then down fall butler, and bowl and all.

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