To-morrow, when mass had been said at the chappel,
Six tables were covered in the hall,
And in comes the squire, and makes a short speech,
It was, Neighbours, you’re welcome all.
But not a man here shall taste my March beer,
Till a Christmas carrol he does sing.
Then all clapt their hands, and theys houted and sung,
Till the hall and the parlour did ring.
Now mustard and brawn, roast beef and plumb pies
Were set upon every table ;