Carol, For Candlemas Day



Christmas hath made an end

Welladay, welladay;

Which was my dearest friend,

More is the pity.

For with an heavy heart

I must from thee depart

To follow plough and cart

All the year after.


Lent is coming fast on,

Welladay, welladay,

That loves not anyone

More is the pity.

For I doubt both my cheeks

Will look thin eating leeks:

Wise is he then that seeks

For a friend in a corner.


All our good cheer is gone,

Welladay, welladay;

And turnèd 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,

Welladay, welladay,

From my friend to depart,

More is the pity:

Christmas, I mean, 'tis thee,

That thus forsaketh me;

yet till one hour I see

Will I be merry.


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