trad.

Here we come a-wassailing among the leaves so green,
Here we come a-wassailing so fairly to be seen,
Now is winter-time; stranger travel far and near,
And we wish you, send you a happy New Year.

Bud and blossom, bud and blossom, bud and bloom and bear,
So we may have plenty of cider all next year;
Apples and in capfuls and in bushel bags all,
And there’s cider running out of every gutter hole.

Down there in the muddy lane there sits an old red fox,
Starving and a-shivering and licking his old chops;
Bring us out your table and spread it if you please,
And give us hungry wassailers a bit of bread and cheese.

I've got a little purse and it's made of leather skin,
A little silver sixpence would line it well within;
Now it is winter-time; strangers travel far and near,
And we wish you, send you a happy New Year.