While the old fashioned country dance would enlist
The young, to enjoy its delight,
The old folks sat down to a rubber at whist,
And so passed the old Christmas night.
The mistletoe bough to the ceiling was hung,
Old excuse for the innocent kiss,
Nor Prudery's self would pronounce it as wrong
On a joyous occasion like this.
Each house had its party, each party was gay,
Good nature and cheerfulness lent
Their aid to induce you to lengthen your stay,
And regret only came when you went.
Those, those were the times, let them talk as they may,
When folks met to be happy and free!
'Tis a pity such customs should e'er pass away.
However old fashioned they be!
A blackguard is a living syringe filled with dirty water, with which he ever and anon doth defile his betters.
