And, tho' inept my lay,
Thou wilt amend it,
And where 'tis out of joint,
Canst make, canst make my false true counterpoint,
Canst make, canst make my false true counterpoint.
XIII. HEAP ON MORE WOOD! THE WIND IS CHILL
1.Heap on more wood! the wind is chill;
But let it whistle as it will,
We'll keep our Christmas merry still,
We'll keep our Christmas merry still.
Each age has deem'd the new-born year
The fittest time for festal cheer;
And well our Christian sires of old
Lov'd when the year its course had roll'd.
2.On Christmas Eve the bells were rung;
On Christmas Eve the Mass was sung;
That only night in all the year
Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear.
The damsel donn'd her kirtle sheen;
The hall was dress'd with holly green;
Forth to the wood did merry men go
To gather in the mistletoe.
3.Then open'd wide the baron's hall
To vassal, tenant, serf and all;
Power laid his rod of rule aside,
And ceremony doff'd his pride,
All hail'd, with uncontroll'd delight
And general voice, the happy night,
That to the cottage, as the crown,
Brought tidings of salvation down.
