LORDINGS, from a distant home,
To seek old Christmas we are come,
Who loves our minstrelsy:
And here, unless report mis-say,
The grey-beard dwells, and on this day,
Keeps yearly wassel, ever gay,
With festive mirth and glee.
To all who honour Christmas, and commend our lays,
Love will his blessings send, and crown with joy their days.