Right merry now the hours they pass,
Fleeting thru jocund pleasure's glass,
The yule-clog too burns bright and clear,
Auspicious of a happy year:
While some with joke, and some with tale
But all with sweeter mulled ale,
Pass gaily time's swift stream along,
With interlude of ancient song--
And as each rosy cup they drain,
Bounty replenishes again.
An happy time! hours like to these,
Tho' fleeting, never fail to please.
Who reigns, who riots, or who sings,
Or who enjoys the smiles of kings.
What preacher follows half the town;
Who pleads, with or without a gown;
Who rules his wife, or who the state;
Who little, or who truly great;
What matters light the world amuse,
Where half the other half abuse;
Whether it shall be peace or war,
Or we remain just as we are--
Is all as one to those we see
Around the cup of jollity.
Old age, with joke will still crack on,
And story will be dwelt upon--
Till Christmas shows his ruddy nose,
They will not seek for night's repose,
Nor this their jovial meeting close.