“Hark! now the wags abroad do call
Each other forth to rambling;
Anon you’ll see them in the hall,
For nuts and apples scrambling.
Hark! how the roofs with laughter sound;
Anon they’ll think the house goes round,
For they the cellar’s depths have found.
And there they will be merry.
“The wenches with the wassail-bowls
About the streets are singing;