We may perform this stunning poem written by Fritjof at tomorrows rehearsal (Sunday 21 January)
Wassail At No. 23, The Crescent
Wassail, Wassail, together we stand
To welcome the New Year, glass of Cider in hand. The embers are glowing and so are our cheeks. This wassailing feast we’ll remember for weeks.
And here cometh Marc our wassailing guide The tambourine firmly strapped to his side. Near the fire he stands, his drum almost burnt, From his mouth the tradit’nal customs we learnt.
Whilst singing a song at the top of our voice With various contraptions we make a loud noise: Triangles, bells, a cow’s horn, a gun,
Will help to make the bad spirits run.
We’re sending last year’s bad luck to the sky, Followed by hopes that no worse might come by. Aspirations and wishes acquire swift wings
To gather the bounty which this New Year brings.
And an apple a day keeps the doctor away So let’s bless the apple tree this very day. To the queen on her throne we gladly submit And honour the tree, all bare and moonlit.
The cider it drinks and the toast it devours
To help it produce an abundance of flowers.
We dance round the fire, we bow to the queen, We hope that the New Year is the best ever seen.
An apple cake’s spiked on a sword sharp and long. We all have a piece to help us keep strong,
And then we retire in complete relaxation
For fresh victuals and more lubrication.
In good company all merry we make,
Amongst sausage rolls, baked potatoes and cake. We bless the whole gath’ring and thank our host And greet the New Year with one final toast.
- Körber, 14/01/18