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A wassail, a wassail, throughout all this town,
Our cup it is white and our ale it is brown,
Our wassail is made of the good ale and cake,
Some nutmeg and ginger, the best we can make,
Fol-the-dol, lol-the-dol-the-dol,
Fol-the-dol-the-dol, lol-the-dol-the-dee,
Fol-the-der-rol, fol-the-dad-dy,
Sing too-ra-li-do.
Our wassail is made of an elderberry bough,
And so my good neighbors we'll drink unto thou.
Besides all on earth we have apples in store,
Pray let us come in for it's cold by the door.
We know by the moon that we are not too soon,
And we know by the sky that we are not too high,
We know by the stars that we are not too far,
And we know by the ground that we are within sound.
Good master and mistress, we do hope that you'll give
Unto our jolly wassail as long as you live;
And if we do live till another New Year,
Then perhaps we may call and see who do live here.
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