THE CHRISTMAS DINNER.
Lo, now is come our joyful'st feast!
Let every man be jolly.
Eache roome with yvie leaves is drest,
And every post with holly.
Now all our neighbours' chimneys smoke,
And Christmas blocks are burning;
Their ovens they with bak't meats choke
And all their spits are turning.
Without the door let sorrow lie,
And if, for cold, it hap to die,
Wee'l bury 't in a Christmas pye,
And evermore be merry.
WITHERS, Jnveilia.
I HAD finished my toilet, and was loitering with Frank
Bracebridge in the library, when we heard a distant thwacking
sound, which he informed me was a signal for the serving up of
the dinner. The squire kept up old customs in kitchen as well as
hall, and the rolling-pin, struck upon the dresser by the cook,
summoned the servants to carry in the meats.
Just in this nick the cook knock'd thrice,
And all the waiters in a trice
His summons did obey;
Each serving-man, with dish in hand,
March'd boldly up, like our train-band,
Presented and away.*
* Sir John Suckling.
The dinner was served up in the great hall, where the squire
always held his Christmas banquet.
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