Now he who knows old Christmas,
He knows a carle of worth;
For he is as good a fellow,
As any upon the earth.

He comes warm cloaked and coated,
And buttoned up to the chin,
And soon as he comes a-nigh the door,
We open and let him in.

We know that he will not fail us,
So we sweep the hearth up clean;
We set him in the old armed chair,
And a cushion whereon to lean.

And with sprigs of holly and ivy
We make the house look gay,
Just out of an old regard to him, —
For it was his ancient way.

We broach the strong ale barrel,
And bring out wine and meat;
And thus have all things ready,
Our dear old friend to greet.

And soon the time wears round,
The good old carle we see,
Coming a-near; — for a creditor
Less punctual is than he!

He comes with a cordial voice
That does one good to hear;
He shakes one heartily by the hand,
As he hath done many a year.

And after the little children
He asks in a cheerful tone,
Jack, Kate, and little Annie, —
He remembers them every one!

What a fine old fellow he is,
With his faculties all as clear,
And his heart as warm and light
As a man in his fortieth year!

What a fine old fellow, in troth!
Not one of your griping elves,
Who, with plenty of money to spare,
Think only about themselves!

Not he! for he loveth the children;
And holiday begs for all;
And comes, with his pockets full of gifts,
For the great ones and the small!

With a present for every servant; —
For in giving he doth not tire; —
From the red-faced, jovial butler,
To the girl by the kitchen-fire.

And he tells us witty old stories,
And singeth with might and main;
And we talk of the old man's visit
Till the day that he comes again!

Oh he is a kind old fellow,
For though that beef be dear,
He giveth the parish paupers
A good dinner once a year!

And all the workhouse children
He sets them down in a row,
And giveth them rare plum-pudding,
And two pence a-piece also.

Oh, could you have seen those paupers,
Have heard those children young,
You would wish with them that Christmas
Came oft and tarried long!

He must be a rich old fellow, —
What money he gives away!
There is not a lord in England
Could equal him any day!

Good luck unto old Christmas,
And long life, let us sing,
For he doth more good unto the poor
Than many a crowned king!