"And down by the weaver's croft I stole,
To see if the flax were sprung;
And I met the weaver at his gate,
With the good news on his tongue.

"Now this is all I heard, mother,
And all that I did see;
So, pr'ythee, make my bed, mother,
For I'm tired as I can be."


OLD CHRISTMAS

Now he who knows old Christmas,
He knows a carle of worth;
For he is as good a fellow
As any upon earth.

He comes warm cloaked and coated,
And buttoned up to the chin;
And soon as he comes a-nigh the door
We open and let him in.

And with sprigs of holly and ivy
We make the house look gay,
Just out of an old regard for him,
For it was his ancient way.

He must be a rich old fellow,