Gloucestershire Wassailers’ Song
‘Stair on the wold,Where the winds blow cold,’
WASSAIL! wassail! all over the town,Our toast it is white, and our ale it is brown;Our bowl is made of a maplin tree;We be good fellows all;—I drink to thee.
Here’s to our horse, and to his right ear,God send our measter a happy new year:A happy new year as e’er he did see,—With my wassailing bowl I drink to thee.
Here’s to our mare, and to her right eye,God send our mistress a good Christmas pie;A good Christmas pie as e’er I did see,—With my wassailing bowl I drink to thee.
Here’s to our cow, and to her long tail,God send our measter us never may failOf a cup of good beer: I pray you draw near,And our jolly wassail it’s then you shall hear.
Be here any maids? I suppose here be some;Sure they will not let young men stand on the cold stone!Sing hey O, maids! come trole back the pin,And the fairest maid in the house let us all in.
Come, butler, come, bring us a bowl of the best;I hope your soul in heaven will rest;But if you do bring us a bowl of the small,Then down fall butler, and bowl and all.
Words in this poem
- wold n.
- A wood; a forest. [OE. wold, wald, AS. weald, wald, a wood, forest; akin to OFries. & OS. wald, D. woud, G. wald, Icel. völlr, a field, and probably to Gr. va a garden, inclosure.]
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Gloucestershire Wassailers’ Song is in the public domain. This text is taken from Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England, Project Gutenberg ebook #649; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Robert Bell, Gloucestershire Wassailers’ Song, in Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs of the Peasantry of England (1857), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #649, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/bell-ancient-poems/gloucestershire-wassailers-song.html, id L11968.
Form and metre
Gloucestershire Wassailers’ Song is 26 lines in 7 stanzas. The rhyme scheme is AABB, complete in 5 of its 7 stanzas. The metre is trochaic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 71%). 96% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 9.6 syllables.
See other poems in trochaic pentameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 AA woldA · coldA
- 2 AABB townA · brownA · treeB · theeB
- 3 AABB earA · yearA · seeB · theeB
- 4 AABB eyeA · pieA · seeB · theeB
- 5 AABB tailA · failA · nearB · hearB
- 6 -AAA some · stoneA · pinA · inA
- 7 AABB bestA · restA · smallB · allB
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against trochaic pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| ‘Stair on the wold, | 4 | ···· |
| Where the winds blow cold,’ | 5 | ····· |
| WASSAIL! wassail! all over the town, | 8 | /˘/˘···· |
| Our toast it is white, and our ale it is brown; | 11 | /·····/···· |
| Our bowl is made of a maplin tree; | 9 | /········ |
| We be good fellows all;—I drink to thee. | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Here’s to our horse, and to his right ear, | 9 | ··/······ |
| God send our measter a happy new year: | 10 | ··/···/˘·· |
| A happy new year as e’er he did see,— | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| With my wassailing bowl I drink to thee. | 10 | ·········· |
| Here’s to our mare, and to her right eye, | 9 | ··/······ |
| God send our mistress a good Christmas pie; | 10 | ··//˘··/˘· |
| A good Christmas pie as e’er I did see,— | 10 | ··/˘······ |
| With my wassailing bowl I drink to thee. | 10 | ·········· |
| Here’s to our cow, and to her long tail, | 9 | ··/······ |
| God send our measter us never may fail | 9 | ··/···/·· |
| Of a cup of good beer: I pray you draw near, | 11 | ··········· |
| And our jolly wassail it’s then you shall hear. | 11 | ·//˘/˘····· |
| Be here any maids? I suppose here be some; | 11 | ··/˘··˘/··· |
| Sure they will not let young men stand on the cold stone! | 12 | ············ |
| Sing hey O, maids! come trole back the pin, | 10 | ·········· |
| And the fairest maid in the house let us all in. | 12 | ··/˘········ |
| Come, butler, come, bring us a bowl of the best; | 11 | ·/˘········ |
| I hope your soul in heaven will rest; | 8 | ·····/·· |
| But if you do bring us a bowl of the small, | 11 | ··········· |
| Then down fall butler, and bowl and all. | 9 | ···/˘···· |
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