Right merry now the hours they pass,
Fleeting thru jocund pleasure's glass,
The yule-clog too burns bright and clear,
Auspicious of a happy year:
While some with joke, and some with tale
But all with sweeter mulled ale,
Pass gaily time's swift stream along,
With interlude of ancient song—
And as each rosy cup they drain,
Bounty replenishes again.