Homeless Wassail

Wassail, wassail all over the town

Our cup is white and our ale is brown,

But huddled on this iron grate

We poor and hungry curse our fate.

No wassail bowl for such as these,

No turkey scraps, no ale or cheese

This Christmas Eve our heart’s desire

Is a bottle of gin and a trash can fire.

Good Christian, mind as home you go

With dreams of holly and mistletoe

That the holly bears a dreadful thorn

For those who wake to a frozen dawn.

No wassail bowl for such as these,

No turkey scraps, no ale or cheese

This Christmas Eve our heart’s desire

Is a bottle of gin and a trash can fire.

Oh, where is he, that holy child

Once born of Mary, meek and mild

And whither peace, good will to men

Now and forever more, amen.

No wassail bowl for such as these,

No turkey scraps, no ale or cheese

This Christmas Eve our heart’s desire

is a bottle of gin and a trash can fire.

All ye who dine with face aglow

In reginency atrio

Pray pause a while at pleasure’s door

And sup some sorrow with the poor.

No wassail bowl for such as these,

No turkey scraps, no ale or cheese

This Christmas Eve our heart’s desire

is a bottle of gin and a trash can fire.

This pain and hunger cold and care

Sweet Jesus Christ, it’s hard to bear.