The wassol round, in good brown bowls,
Garnished with ribbons, blithely trowls.
There the huge sirloin recked: hard by
Plumb-porridge stood, and Christmas pye;
Nor failed old Scotland to produce,
At such high tide, her savoury goose.
Then came the merry masquers in,
And carols roared with blithesome din;
If unmelodious was the song,
It was a hearty note, and strong.