Lordings, wicked men eschew,
In them never shall you view
Aught that is good;

Cowards are the rabble rout,

Kick and beat the grumblers out,
To grace the day.

May joys come from God above,

To all those who Christmas love.

To English Ale and Gascon wine,

And French, doth Christmas much incline— And Anjou's, too;

He makes his neighbour freely drink,

So that in sleep his head doth sink
Often by day.

May joys flow from God above,
To all those who Christmas love.

Lords, by Christmas and the host

Of this mansion hear

my toast

Drink it well

Each must drain his cup of wine,

And I the first will toss off mine:

Thus I advise.

Here then I bid you all Wassail,

Cursed be he who will not say, Drinkhail.1

1 Wassail and Drinkhail are both derived from the AngloSaxon. They were the common drinking pledges of the age. Wassail is equivalent to the phrase "Your health," of the present day. Drinkhail, which literally signifies "drink health,” was the usual acknowledgment of the other pledge.

SIR CHRISTMAS.

[AN ancient MS. in the British Museum furnishes the following Carol, which, in olden times, would appear to have been the initiatory welcome to the festivities of the season. The religious allusions, intermixed with invitations to partake of the good things of this life, mark the age of hearty hospitality and honest enjoyment,—before Puritanism came into fashion.]

OEL, Noel, Noel, Noel,

Who is there, that singeth so, Noel,

I am here, Sir Christmas,

Noel, Noel?

Welcome, my lord Sir Christmas,

Welcome to all both more or less ;1

Come near Noel.

Great and small.

God be with you, Sir, tidings I you bring,

In an ox stall He is laid,

Wherefore sing we all at abraid,

Noel.

Drink you all right heartily,

Make good cheer and be right merry,

And sing with us now joyfully,

Noel.

2 Suddenly, or loudly.

A CAROL IN PRAISE OF ALE.

[IT has been remarked that during the continuance of the Christmas banquet there is no doubt but that various Carols were sung, either by the assembled company, or by the attendant minstrels, having, for their subject-matter, neither reference to the religious origin of the festival, nor to any of the particular ceremonies connected with it. The following drinking-song was probably of the number. MS. of the sixteenth century, in the British there entitled "A Christenmasse Carroll."]

It occurs in a Museum, and is

BONE, God wot!

Sticks in my throat

Without I have a draught

Of cornie ale,

Nappy and stale,

My life lies in great waste.

Some ale or beer,

Gentle butler,

Some liquor thou us show,