With Cakes And Ale
by
With cakes and ale, and antic ring
Well tiptoed to the tabor string,
And many a buss below the holly,
And flout at sable melancholy–
So, with a rouse, went Christmassing!
What! are no latter waits to sing?
No clog to blaze? No wit to wing?
Are catches gone, and dimpled Dolly,
With cakes and ale?
Nay, an you will, behold the thing:
The spiced meat, the minstreling!
Undo Misrule, and many a volley
Of losel snatches born of folly–
Bring back the cheer, be Christmas-king,
With cakes and ale!