It is late and cold, stir up the fire,
Sit close and draw the table nigher,
Be merry and drink wine that's bold,
Your bed's of wanton down, the best,
Where you may tumble, tumble,
I could well wish you wengers too,
But I am dead and cannot do.
Call for the best, the house may ring,
Sack, white and claret, let them bring.
Drink a pace while breath you have,
You'll find but cold drinking
Plough a partridge for your din,
And a cavern for a cedar.
You shall find ready when you are up,
And the horse shall have his zap.
Welcome, welcome shall fly around,
5.0
