 | The pink book |  |
KING CHRISTMAS.
When stars gleam cold like points of steel,
And snows are drifting o'er the fells,
When idly sleeps the miller's wheel,
Hidden in drooping icicles;
When sing the waits and ring the bells,
He cometh forth from the dark north,
A white-haired king and ruddy.
And snows are drifting o'er the fells,
When idly sleeps the miller's wheel,
Hidden in drooping icicles;
When sing the waits and ring the bells,
He cometh forth from the dark north,
A white-haired king and ruddy.
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When holly shines along the wall
And fiddlers make their merriest din,
Whilst round and round the glowing hall
The laughing dancers reel and spin;
When creaks the board and bursts the bin,
He stands thereby, right jovially,
The master of the revels.
And fiddlers make their merriest din,
Whilst round and round the glowing hall
The laughing dancers reel and spin;
When creaks the board and bursts the bin,
He stands thereby, right jovially,
The master of the revels.
When dowager and old-time beau
Do try a step to this, or this,
And when beneath the mistletoe
Two lovers chance to meet and kiss,
Or steal away to talk,—I wis
The rogue is there, all unaware,
Shaking with pent-up laughter.
Do try a step to this, or this,
And when beneath the mistletoe
Two lovers chance to meet and kiss,
Or steal away to talk,—I wis
The rogue is there, all unaware,
Shaking with pent-up laughter.
When lights burn low, and dance is done,
And fiddlers hie them o'er the moor,
When sleepy guests to bed are gone,
And tipsy Jack doth bolt the door,—
Ah me! that good king hale and hoar,
Rides home in haste, across the waste,
To sleep another twelvemonth.
And fiddlers hie them o'er the moor,
When sleepy guests to bed are gone,
And tipsy Jack doth bolt the door,—
Ah me! that good king hale and hoar,
Rides home in haste, across the waste,
To sleep another twelvemonth.
| The pink book | |