_Here another of the party introduces his companions by singing to a violin accompaniment_, _as follows_: Here’s two or three jolly boys, all in one mind; We’ve come a pace-egging, {181} I hope you’ll prove kind: I hope you’ll prove kind with your money and beer, We shall come no more near you until the next year. Fal de ral, lal de lal, &c. The first that steps up is Lord [Nelson] {182} you’ll see, With a bunch of blue ribbons tied down to his knee; With a star on his breast, like silver doth shine; I hope you’ll remember this pace-egging time. Fal de ral, &c. O! the next that steps up is a jolly Jack tar, He sailed with Lord [Nelson], during last war: He’s right on the sea, Old England to view: He’s come a pace-egging with so jolly a crew. Fal de ral, &c. O! the next that steps up is old Toss-Pot, you’ll see, He’s a valiant old man, in every degree, He’s a valiant old man, and he wears a pig-tail; And all his delight is drinking mulled ale. Fal de ral, &c. O! the next that steps up is old Miser, you’ll see; She heaps up her white and her yellow money; She wears her old rags till she starves and she begs; And she’s come here to ask for a dish of pace eggs. Fal de ral, &c. _The characters being thus duly introduced_, _the following lines are sung in chorus by all the party_. Gentlemen and ladies, that sit by the fire, Put your hand in your pocket, ’tis all we desire; Put your hand in your pocket, and pull out your purse, And give us a trifle,—you’ll not be much worse. _Here follows a dance_, _and this is generally succeeded by a dialogue of an_ ad libitum _character_, _which varies in different districts_, _being sometimes similar to the one performed by the sword-dancers_. GLOUCESTERSHIRE WASSAILERS’ SONG. [IT is still customary in many parts of England to hand round the wassail, or health-bowl, on New-Year’s Eve. The custom is supposed to be of Saxon origin, and to be derived from one of the observances of the Feast of Yule. The tune of this song is given in _Popular Music_. It is a universal favourite in Gloucestershire, particularly in the neighbourhood of ‘Stair on the wold, Where the winds blow cold,’ as the old rhyme says.] 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, {183} 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.