Hit is the wone (wont) Ine Saxe-londe, That freond saith to his freond, Wan he sal drink “Leofue (dear) freond wassail,” The other saith “drinc hail.”

Old Geoffrey of Monmouth, after relating the legend, remarks that from that time down to his own day it had been the custom in Britain for one who drinks to another to say, “Wacht heil!” and for that other who pledges him in return, to answer, “Drink heil!” The word wassail, from being used to signify a pledge or greeting, in time came to denote feasting in general, and in the phrase, “wassail-bowl,” to con-note the particular liquor, spiced ale, with which the bowl was filled.

Milner, in a dissertation on an ancient cup, supposed to be a wassail-cup, inserted in the eleventh volume of the Archæologia, states that the introduction of Christianity amongst our ancestors did not at all interfere with the practice of wassailing. On the contrary, the custom began to assume a sort of religious aspect; and the wassail-bowl itself, which in great monasteries was placed on the Abbot’s table, at the upper end of the refectory, to be circulated amongst the community at his discretion, received the honourable appellation of Poculum Caritatis. The wassail-bowl is probably the original of the Grace Cup and Loving Cup. {235}

It was also customary in some places for the poor of a village at Christmas time or on New Year’s Eve, to go round to the doors of their richer neighbours, bearing a wassail-bowl, decked with ribbons and a golden apple, and singing a carol appropriate to the occasion. This interesting custom is still carried out to the letter at Chippenham, in Wiltshire. On Christmas Eve five or six burly labourers, carrying a bowl gaily decorated with ribbons, go round from house to house and sing a peculiarly quaint rhyme, of much the same character as that given below, which was once common in Gloucestershire, particularly in the neighbourhood of “Stow on the Wold where the wind blows cold.”

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 our measter 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 my 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.