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A jolly wassail-bowl,
A wassail of good ale;
Well fare the butler’s soul
That setteth this to sale;
Our jolly wassail.

Good dame, here at your door
Our wassail we begin,
We are all maidens poor,
We pray now let us in
With our wassail.

Our wassail we do fill
With apples and with spice,
Then grant us your good-will
To taste here once or twice
Of our good wassail.

If any maidens be
Here dwelling in this house,
They kindly will agree
To take a full carouse
Of our wassail.

But here they let us stand
All freezing in the cold:
Good master, give command
To enter and be bold,
With our wassail.

Much joy into this hall
With us is entered in,
Our master first of all
We hope will now begin
Of our wassail.

And after, his good wife
Our spiced bowl will try;
The Lord prolong your life!
Good fortune we espy
For our wassail.

Some bounty from your hands
Our wassail to maintain;
We’ll buy no house nor lands
With that which we do gain
With our wassail.

This is our merry night
Of choosing king and queen;
Then be it your delight
That something may be seen
In our wassail.

It is a noble part
To bear a liberal mind;
God bless our master’s heart!
For here we comfort find
With our wassail.

And now we must be gone
To seek out more good cheer,
Where bounty will be shown
As we have found it here
With our wassail.

Much joy betide them all,
Our prayer shall be still,
We hope and ever shall
For this your great good-will
To our wassail.