Ranking misers, now, do sparing shun;
Their Hall, of music soundeth!
And dogs thence, with whole shoulders run;
So all things there aboundeth.
The country folk themselves advance;
For Crowdy-Mutton's come out of France!
And Jack shall pipe, and Jill shall dance,
And all the town be merry.
Ned Swash hath fetched his Bands from pawn,
And all his best apparel;
Brisk Nell hath bought a Ruff of Lawn
With droppings of the barrel:
And those that hardly, all the year,
Had bread to eat, or rags to wear,
Will have both clothes and dainty fare;
And all the day be merry.
Now poor men, to the Justices,
With capons make their arrants:
And if they hap to fail of these,
They plague them with their warrants.
But, now, they feed them with good cheer,
And what they want, they take in beer;
For Christmas comes but once a year!
And then they shall be merry.
Good farmers in the country, nurse
The poor that else were undone;
Some landlords spend their money worse
On lust and pride in London.
There, the roist'rers they play:
Drab and Dice their lands away;
Which may be ours, another day,
And therefore let's be merry!
The client now his suit forbears,
The prisoner's heart is eased.
The debtor drinks away his cares,
And, for the time, is pleased.
Though others' purses be more fat;
Why should we pine, or grieve thereat?
Hang Sorrow! Care will kill a cat!
And therefore let's be merry!
Hark, how the wags abroad do call
Each other forth to rambling!
Anon, you'll see them in the Hall,
For nuts and apples sc[r]ambling.
Hark, how the roofs with laughter sound!
Anon, they'll think the house goes round;
For they, the cellar's depth have found,
And, there, they will be merry.
The wenches, with their wassail bowls,
About the streets are singing;
The boys are come to catch the owls;
The Wild Mare in is bringing:
Our kitchen boy hath broke his box;
And to the dealing of an ox,
Our honest neighbours come by flocks;
And, here, they will be merry.
Now Kings and Queens, poor sheepcots have,
And mate with everybody;
The honest, now, may play the Knave
And wise men play at Noddy.
Some youths will now a Mumming go,
Some others play at Rowland-hoe,
And twenty other gameboys moe
Because they will be merry.
Then, wherefore, in these merry days
Should we, I pray! be duller?
No! let us sing some Roundelays
To make our mirth the fuller!
And whil'st, thus inspired, we sing;
Let all the streets with echoes ring!
Woods and Hills, and everything,
Bear witness we are merry!