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Hark I how the roofs with laughter sound ! Anon they Ml think the house goes round; For they the cellars depth have found, And there they will be merry.
The wenches with their wassel bowls
About the streets are singing ; The boys are come to catch the owls,
The wild mare in is bringing. Our kitchen-boy hath broke his box, And to the dealing of the ox Our honest neighbours come by flocks,
And here they will be merry.
Now kings and queens poor sheep cotes have,
And mate with every body; The honest now may play the knave,
And wise men play the noddy. Some youths will now a mumming go, Some others play at Rowland-ho, And twenty other gameboys mo,
Because they will be merry.
Then wherefore in these merry daies
Should we, I pray, be duller ? No, let us sing some roundelayes,
To make our mirth the fuller.
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