Wassail, Wassail all o're the town!
Our toast it is white and Our ale it is Brown
Our bowl it is made of the white maple tree
with a wassailing bowl we'll drink to thee!!
Come butler, come fill us a bowl of the best
Then we hope that your soul in heaven may rest
But if you do draw us a bowl of the small
Then down shall go butler, bowl and all.
Be here any maids? I suppose here be some;
Sure they will not let young men stand on the cold stone!
Sing hey O, maids! come trole back the pin,
And the fairest maid in the house let us all in.
Then here's to the maid in the lily white smock
Who tripped to the door and slipped back the lock
Who tripped to the door and pulled back the pin
For to let these jolly wassailers in.
Whenever I make that stuff, that song always runs through my head.