Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1850-11-23
From the University Magazine.
A Christmas Song.

ny +. :. PALMER.

Christmas sports abound,
And dittics are sung, and the sweet bells rung,
the simple village round.
Untether and fling the curtain down, and cud-
dlo in the screen
You shall be the king Of The feast, and will be
the queen.
And we'll drink good rest to the merry old
times well chirup of kith and kin;
[Thc nut brown ale brcwed myself, before the
frost came in.
So bow to the rule Of reverend yule in sun
shine and in storm,
And thrust your shoulder next to mine, to
keep your old wife warm.
CATER my Joy how many time we ne'er
shall sec ngan,
pressed my chubby check to thine, at yonder
glistening pane,
And beckoned you in to the sanded floor, with
infant love and glee;
twincd your locks with dinglc-howers, whilst
wild berries ouprest
| Unto my lips, then sank to sleep upon my baby
breast.
My mother stayed her whispering wheel, and
| gave us kisses sweet,
She loved so much to hear the sound of our lit
tic dancing feet.
Look up, my dear old charming chuck and
never turn askow
You're not ashamed Of me, trust-Tm never
ashamed Of youi
| Oh, wecrn't VIC glad-what fun we had at
yonder village school
! And how screamed to sec you stand, Ounce
upon the stool
And how we gambolld in the lanes on many
breezy morn,
| And how you kept my kirtle wide, and dragged
| IL from the thorn
| And how We went, with coat and hood, to sing
the carols round
Sitting before the vicarage door, ut moonlight
We were found,
And will and mill they dragged us in, and
made us dither and stare,
To have to sing our songs again before the lady's
chair:
Your gatherings all you gave to me, full twelve
pence was the gain;
And you kissed me under the sycamore tree,
and kissed you again.
Loud waved the flame in the winters wind, the
winking glades were red;
My mother nursed the baby dear, my father was
in bed,
When oh, for shame that night you came, with
mistletoe boughs to call,
With bungling words, (and "a lame excuse is
worse than none at all }
And ay, VIC sat in the brave old screen, and ay,
wo looked and sighed;
| Alack our simple hands were free, our cunning
hearts were tied.
Mother she brewed the buttered quart, and bade
| us drink up;
| But ay, you looked at me and sighed, and ay,
| looked in the cup.
You never nestle so near to me--or play with
such antics nowl
You always drink our measure up. God bless
your dainty brow!
Think of the gay December time you took me
for your bride;
Up and down the bells were swung, never
left your side;
So proud of me as your loving bride, you called
me pink and rose,
And we danced beneath holly bough, in al
our Sunday clothes.
Lord bless me how YOU twirled me round, anC
made my color rise!
And can't tell which wore brightest then, you
buckles or your eyes.
The squire he gave humping goose, your ri
val sent curse,
: Ny lady sent a silver pound, tied in silkel
j purse;
: Heaven forgive your wicked face, and all you
/ youthful sins,
Next Christmas eve the parson came, and bles
sed our lovely twins.
Soon, soon the honeymoon unwilling was
! hide;
: Father and mother went to dust, our prett
children died;
/ A famine came, the laboring men committe
: crime for bread;
: You limited once of doing so wished that yo
G were dead:
: Struggle on bravcly!' still cried. You di
,fI my dear, and won
v Twas bitter strife, well ended, and fortune we
:. begun
!, We'd COW and nag, apig and a cot, and heart
:, children three,
= And merry we danced the first of May, aroun
= the hawthorn tree.
. All then came happy Christmas, they almoi
= drove us mad;
II The cradle always squeaking-the children a
/ ways glad.
!. We're grey old people, Jock O. the wood br
e grieving won't avail;
. We've seen our younkers settled, so we'll sit an
4 drink our ale.
- Come take your fiddle from overhead, an
never you whisper nay;
~ I'll show you the lit danced for you upon oil
Z wedding day;
"a I've got the same blue kirtle on, the same re
y, kerchef, too,
ID And you've the self-same smiling face wit
rs looks las good as new:
al Strike up strike up my lithsome lad, twan
70 out lusty strain;
II I'll foot it, on the Christmas hearth, around an
1 round again;
r. There's music music in my heart, and mirt
m upon my tongue
!. You never played so well bofore-I never fe
nf so young.
l. Give me kiss, you Jock O. my heart as swe'
NJ us love can tell
" Give me dozen, you Jock o. my heart dol
d love thy old wife we'll
:; You bring the tears into my eyes, and burn m
5, heart-strings too.
n But should weep sweet lad of my love, let
d drink drop with you
q For my cup is out, and think hear, or tn
h wind talks over the moor
: There's some one tttoring, yirking, whispering
!, joking at the door,
> . Sure t must be our children's sons, comm
y with wonted rhymes,
% To sing carol round the hearth, and wish I
= happy times
sr guess they've heard our stiffness. I'll sit n
~ down and SPIN