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The Whimple Wassail

A wassail a wassail, the moon she shines down
Our apples are ripe and our nuts they are brown
For when you shall bud dear old apple tree
And when you shall bear we’ll sing unto thee

With our wassail a-wassail a-wassail
And joy come to our jolly wassail!

Oh apple tree prosper, bud, bloom and bear
So we may have plenty of cider next year
And where there’s a barrel we hope there’ll be ten
So we may have cider when we come again

Oh mistress and master our wassail begin
Please open your door and let us come in
Besides all on earth you’ll have apples in store
Pray let us come in for tiz cold at the door

We wish you great plenty and long may you live
Because you are willing and free for to give
To our wassail so cheerful, our wassail so bold
Long may you live happy and lusty and old

Come fill up our wassail bowl full to the brim
Come see it all garnished so neat and so trim
Sometimes with laurel and sometimes with bay
We’ll all drink our fill in the good old way

Now for this gold liquor to us that you bring
We’ll raise up our glasses and merrily sing
That all in our village long may they remain
The good people of Whimple stay ever the same!