The following New-Year’s rhyme must have tried the breath of the speaker and the patience of his listeners considerably. It consists probably of several separate rhymes tagged together, and the allusions it contains to the “big clerk of the street,” etc., make it highly probable the ceremonies of the evening were remains of the Festival of Fools, and had their origin in the streets of Rome. The rhyme is given as it came to hand. “Bless this cheerful dwelling, With a musical voice, That it be like a royal palace, Without being wasteful. Bless each man Who surrounds this gathering, From the one grown grey with seniority To the one of infant’s age. Bless our gentle men, And our young children, All who chance at this time To come to Donald’s. Men! this begins my tale And I must tell it. Ho! each black, black generous one! Hò-go! each generous one! Divide this portion My servant harrowed! More produce! Then it was that Margaret said, ‘O dear! more produce!’ Then said Mary, ‘My dearest dear! Martin is behind the door, Listening to us!’ ‘That is his excuse,’ said she. Hu fudar! hei fedar! Up with you, you cajoler! Fierce icinesses rose On Donald, He levelled at Margaret Fair abuse! He gave a tap to the harp, And the strings sounded. He quickly drew a _crambat_ And tried to tune it. ‘You have done a mischief,’ said the clerk, ‘That I don’t regret! Utter ruin has come upon you, With your broken stick!’ ‘You have a healing vessel,’ Said the harper. ‘When you are tried with it a second time, ’Twill make the stick whole; So your share be yours of the healing cup. O dearest sir! May that stick of many virtues Be full of produce!’ I went on candle night to hold New Year revel, In the house of fat puddings, I asked admittance at the door, Coaxingly with fair words; The big clerk of the street spoke A senseless word, ‘If my gold crook were in my hand, I would not let your head whole from the door.’ I took the north turn to the door, That was a north turn of mischief to me; I struck the big toe of my foot In the face of a stone, The pin fell, the pan fell, The harrows in the door fell, They made a cling clang clattering! Rise down, young wife, And honest dame, that hast carried praise, Be womanly as thou wert wont, And bring our Christmas gifts to us. The smoothed-faced cheese, And entrails prepared with juice; But if these are not convenient, Bread and cheese will suffice. It was not greed with open mouth That brought me to the town, But a hamper On my servant’s back! A white servant catch me, Fatness burns me! Open and let me in! ‘True for him,’ said the goodman, ‘let him in.’”