Much work we must do, before months of cold,
Who knows what may now, come here to unfold.
But before winter, she cometh to town,
Wearing her garment, her snowy white gown.
Wassail unto Nerthus, keep us well fed,
A good crop of grain, wilt keep us in stead.
Our producer of, vast bountiful yields,
Thou now sleepeth in, Avalon’s green fields.
To old heathen gods, every one drink hail,
Point your horn upwards, and tell a tall tail.
Bring us more good ale, we raise our great horn,
Up with pointy end, drink to Barleycorn.
Pass horn to the left, wassail unto thee,
Let horn go around, merry let us be.
Made from best barley, we down it with glee,
Drink like a Dane, under Yggdrasil tree.
Let’s all see who can, make the biggest boast,
So tell a tall tail, and raise a new toast.
Let’s swear allegiance, to us we brave few,
Before cock crows in, early morning dew.
Us few stalwarts drink, long into dark night,
Making the most of, our long drinking rite.
Empty thy glass and, merry let us be,
Drink like a Dane, under Yggdrasil tree.
Copyright Andrew Rea Winterfelleth 2024
