Whimple Wassail Song

A-wassail, a-wassail! The Moon she shines down;

Our apples are ripe and our nuts they are brown,

Whence thou mayest bud, dear old apple tree,

And whence thou mayest bear, we’ll sing unto thee

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With our wassail, wassail, wassail!

And joy come to our jolly wassail!

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O, apple tree prosper, bloom and bear,

So, we may have plenty of cider next year.

And where there’s a barrel, we hope there’ll be ten,

That we may have cider when we come again

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With our wassail etc

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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 ‘tis cold at the door.

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With our wassail etc

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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.

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With our wassail etc

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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.

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With our wassail etc

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Now for this gold liquor to us that you bring,

We’ll lift up our voices and merrily sing,

That all in our village long may they remain.

The good people of Whimple stay ever the same.

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With our wassail etc