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Christèmas hath made an end, Well-a-day! well-a-day!
Which was my dearest friend, More is the pity!
For with an heavy heart must I from thee depart
To follow plow and cart all the year after
Christèmas hath made an End, Well-a-day! well-a-day!
Which was my dearest friend, More is the pity!
Lent is fast coming on, Well-a-day! well-a-day!
That loves not anyone, More is the pity!
For I doubt both my cheeks will look thin from eating leeks;
Wise is he then that seeks for a friend in a comer.
All of our good cheer is gone, Well-a-day! well-a-day!
And turned to a bone, More is the pity!
In my good master's house I shall eat no more souse*
Then give me one carouse, Gentle kind butler!
It grieves me to the heart, Well-a-day' well-a-day'
From my friend to depart, More is the pity!
Christèmas, I fear 'tis thee That thus forsaketh me:
But for one more hour, I see, Will I yet be merry.
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