Wassail Chorus at the Mermaid Tavern

By Theodore Watts-Dunton

1836-1914

CHRISTMAS knows a merry, merry place,
         Where he goes with fondest face,
         Brightest eye, brightest hair:
Tell the Mermaid where is that one place,
         Where?

Raleigh. 'Tis by Devon's glorious halls,
         Whence, dear Ben, I come again:
Bright of golden roofs and walls--
         El Dorado's rare domain--

         Seem those halls when sunlight launches
         Shafts of gold thro' leafless branches,
Where the winter's feathery mantle blanches
         Field and farm and lane.

CHORUS. Christmas knows a merry, merry place, &c.

Drayton. 'Tis where Avon's wood-sprites weave
         Through the boughs a lace of rime,
         While the bells of Christmas Eve
         Fling for Will the Stratford-chime
         O'er the river-flags emboss'd
         Rich with flowery runes of frost--
O'er the meads where snowy tufts are toss'd--
         Strains of olden time.

CHORUS. Christmas knows a merry, merry place, &c.

Shakespeare's Friend. 'Tis, methinks, on any ground
         Where our Shakespeare's feet are set.
         There smiles Christmas, holly-crown'd
         With his blithest coronet:
         Friendship's face he loveth well:
         'Tis a countenance whose spell
Sheds a balm o'er every mead and dell
         Where we used to fret.

CHORUS. Christmas knows a merry, merry place, &c.

Heywood. More than all the pictures, Ben,
         Winter weaves by wood or stream,
Christmas loves our London, when
         Rise thy clouds of wassail-steam--
         Clouds like these, that, curling, take
         Forms of faces gone, and wake
Many a lay from lips we loved, and make
         London like a dream.

CHORUS. Christmas knows a merry, merry place, &c.

Ben Jonson. Love's old songs shall never die,
         Yet the new shall suffer proof:
         Love's old drink of Yule brew I
         Wassail for new love's behoof.
         Drink the drink I brew, and sing
         Till the berried branches swing,
Till our song make all the Mermaid ring--
         Yea, from rush to roof.

FINALE. Christmas loves this merry, merry place;
         Christmas saith with fondest face,
         Brightest eye, brightest hair:
'Ben, the drink tastes rare of sack and mace:
         Rare!'

DayPoems Poem No. 755
<a href="http://www.daypoems.net/poems/755.html">Wassail Chorus at the Mermaid Tavern by Theodore Watts-Dunton</a>

The DayPoems Poetry Collection, www.daypoems.net
Timothy Bovee, editor

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