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HOMELESS WASSAIL (Ian Robb) "Wassail, wassail,all over the town, Our cup is white and our ale is brown" But huddled on the iron grate we poor and hungry curse our fate. cho: No wassail bowl for such as these No turkey scraps, no ale nor cheese, This Christmas Eve our heart's desire Is a bottle of gin and a trashcan fire. Good Christian, mind, as home you go With dreams of holly and mistletoe That the holly bears a dreadful thorn For those who wake to a frozen dawn. Oh, where is He, that holy child Once born of Mary, meek and mild? And whither peace, goodwill to men Now and forevermore, amen? All ye who dine with face aglow In Reninensi atrio (in the Queen's hall---Latin) Pray pause awile at pleasure's door And sup some sorrow with the poor. "Wassail, wassail,all over the town, Our cup is white and our ale is brown" This cold and hunger, pain and care Sweet Jesus Christ, it's hard to bear. copyright Ian Robb/SOCAN @Xmas @poor filename[ HOMEWASS TUNE FILE: HOMEWASS CLICK TO PLAY RG |
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