lirik lagu robert donat - wassail chorus
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?
’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 mantlе blanches
field and farm and lane
christmas knows a mеrry, merry place
where he goes with fondest face
brightest eye, brightest hair:
tell the mermaid where is that one place
where?
’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
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?
’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
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?
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
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?
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
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!’
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