A CHRISTMAS DITTY.
Sweep the ingle, froth the beer,
Tiptoe on till chanticleer,
Loose the laugh, dry the tear,—
Crack the drums
When Christmas comes!
AT THE END OF THE FEAST.
Mark well my heavy, doleful tale,
For Twelfth-day now is come,
And now I must no longer sing,
And say no words but mum;
For I perforce must take my leave
Of all my dainty cheer,
Plum-porridge, roast-beef, and minced-pies,
My strong ale and my beer.
Kind-hearted Christmas, now adieu,
For I with thee must part,
And for to take my leave of thee
Doth grieve me at the heart;
Thou wert an ancient housekeeper,
And mirth with meat didst keep,
But thou art going out of town,
Which makes me for to weep.
God knoweth whether I again
Thy merry face shall see,
Which to good fellows and the poor
That was so frank and free.
Thou lovedst pastime with thy heart,
And eke good company;
Pray hold me up for fear I swoon,
For I am like to die.