Showing posts with label song. Show all posts
Showing posts with label song. Show all posts

Monday, 9 January 2012

Coming to an orchard near you...

The Apple Core presents...

WASSAILING

in Painswick

at 6pm, Saturday 14th January 2012

  • Join in a lantern lit procession from The Painswick Centre, at the heart of the village, down Beech Lane to the Orchard. 
  • Wear fancy dress, a woodland animal perhaps and bring drums, whistles, pots and pans to bang and scare away any evil spirits! 
  • There will be a traditional ceremony followed by a mummers play & music
  • Delicious food for sale and sample some of the new seasons cider made by the members of the Painswick Community Orchard Group. 
further enquiries 01453 812879/813779

Saturday, 7 January 2012

Gloucestershire Wassail Song...


Wassail, wassail all over the town!
Our toast it is white and our ale it is brown;
Our bowl it is made of the white maple tree;
With the wassailing bowl, we'll drink to thee!

Drink to thee, drink to thee, 
With the wassailing-bowl we'll drink to thee!

So here is to Cherry and to his right cheek!
Pray God send our master a good piece of beef,
And a good piece of beef that may we all see;
With the wassailing bowl, we'll drink to thee!

And here is to Dobbin and to his right eye!
Pray God send our master a good Christmas pie,
A good Christmas pie that may we all see;
With the wassailing bowl, we'll drink to thee!

So here is to Broad Mary and to her broad horn!
May God send our master a good crop of corn,
And a good crop of corn that may we all see;
With the wassailing bowl, we'll drink to thee!

And here is to Fillpail and to her left ear!
Pray God send our master a happy New Year,
And a happy New Year as e'er he did see;
With the wassailing bowl, we'll drink to thee!

And here is to Colly and to her long tail!
Pray God send our master he never may fail
A bowl of strong beer! I pray you draw near,
And our jolly wassail it's then you shall hear.

Come butler, come fill us a bowl of the best
Then we hope that your soul in heaven may rest
But if you do draw us a bowl of the small
Then down shall go butler, bowl and all.

Be here any maids? I suppose here be some; 
Sure they will not let young men stand on the cold stone! 
Sing hey O, maids! come trole back the pin,  
And the fairest maid in the house let us all in.

Then here's to the maid in the lily-white smock 
Who tripped to the door and slipped back the lock; 
Who tripped to the door and pulled back the pin,  
For to let these jolly wassailers in. 

Wassail! Wassail all over the town! 
Our toast it is white and our ale it is brown; 
Our bowl it is made of the white maple tree; 
With the wassailing-bowl, we'll drink to thee! 

Drink to thee, drink to thee,  
With the wassailing-bowl we'll drink to thee.