Roistering


Whistle or wassail about town,
Got any apples? Throw them down!
Cups white, ale brown,
Barrels made of ivy tree,
Come all you lads and drink with me.

Up the ladder and down the wall,
Half a peck will serve us all;
If you’ll buy eggs, we’ll buy flour,
And we’ll have a pudding
As big as a tower.