Ned Swash hath fetch'd his bands from pawn,

And all his best apparel ;

Brisk Nell hath bought a ruff of lawn

With droppings of the barrel;
And those that hardly all the year

Had bread to eat or rags to wear,
Will have both clothes and dainty fare,
And all the day be merry.

Now poor men to the justices

With capons make their arrants, And if they hap to fail of these

They plague them with their warrants. But now they feed them with good cheer, And what they want they take in beer, For Christmas comes but once a year, And then they shall be merry.

Good farmers in the country nurse
The poor, that else were undone.
Some landlords spend their money worse
On lust and pride in London.

There the roysters they do play,
Drab and dice their lands away,
Which may be ours another day,
And therefore let's be merry.

The client now his suit forbears,
The prisoner's heart is eased,
The debtor drinks away his cares,
And for the time is pleased.

Though others' purses be more fat,

Why should we pine or grieve at that?
Hang sorrow, care will kill a cat,
And therefore let's be merry!

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 depth have found,
And there they will be merry.

The wenches with their wassail bowls
About the streets are singing,
The boys are come to catch the owls,
The wild mare in is bringing.
Our kitchen-boy hath broke his box,

And to the dealing of the ox

Our honest neighbours come by flocks,

And here they will be merry.

Now kings and queens poor sheepcotes have,

And mate with everybody;

The honest now may play the knave,

And wise men play at noddy.
Some youths will now a-mumming go,

Some others play at rowland-hoe,
And twenty other gameboys, moe,
Because they will be merry.

Then wherefore, in these merry days,
Should we, I pray, be duller?
No; let us sing some roundelays
To make our mirth the fuller.
And, whilst inspirèd thus we sing,
Let all the streets with echoes ring;
Woods and hills, and everything,

Bear witness we are merry.

The Mahogany Tree

George Wither.

HRISTMAS is here:

Winds whistle shrill,

Icy and chill,

Little care we :

Little we fear

Weather without,

Sheltered about

The Mahogany Tree.

Once on the boughs

Birds of rare plume

Sang, in its bloom;

Night-birds are we :

Here we carouse,
Singing like them,

Perched round the stem

Of the jolly old tree.

Here let us sport,
Boys, as we sit ;
Laughter and wit
Flashing so free.

Life is but short

When we are gone,
Let them sing on
Round the old tree.

Evenings we knew,

Happy as this ;

Faces we miss,

Pleasant to see.

Kind hearts and true,

Gentle and just,

Peace to your dust!

We sing round the tree.

Care, like a dun,

Lurks at the gate :
Let the dog wait;
Happy we'll be !
Drink, every one;
Pile up the coals,
Fill the red bowls

Round the old tree!

Drain we the cup.-
Friend, art afraid?
Spirits are laid

In the Red Sea.

Mantle it up;
Empty it yet;
Let us forget,

Round the old tree.

Sorrows, begone!
Life and its ills,

Duns and their bills,

Bid we to flee.

Come with the dawn,

Blue-devil sprite,

Leave us to-night

Round the old tree.

William Makepeace Thackeray.

Ceremonies for Christmasse

COME, bring with a noise,

My merrie, merrie boyes,

The Christmas Log to the firing;
While my good Dame, she

Bids ye all be free;

And drink to your hearts' desiring.

With the last yeere's brand
Light the new block, and

For good successe in his spending,

On your Psaltries play,

That sweet luck may

Come while the Log is a-tending.