The Mahogany Tree by William Makepeace Thackeray Christmas is here; Winds whistle shrill, Icy and chill, Little care we; Little we fear Weather without, Shelter'd about The Mahogany Tree.
Once on the boughs Birds of rare plume Sang, in its bloom; Night birds are we; Here we carouse, Singing, like them, Perch'd round the stem Of the jolly old tree.
Here let us sport, Boys, as we sit- Laughter and wit Flashing so free. Life is but short- When we are gone, Let them sing on, Round the old tree.
Evenings we knew, Happy as this; Faces we miss, Pleasant to see. Kind hearts and true, Gentle and just, Peace to your dust! We sing round the tree.
Care, like a dun, Lurks at the gate: Let the dog wait; Happy we 'll be! Drink every one; Pile up the coals, Fill the red bowls, Round the old tree.
Drain we the cup.- Friend, art afraid? Spirits are laid In the Red Sea. Mantle it up; Empty it yet; Let us forget, Round the old tree.
Sorrows, begone! Life and its ills, Duns and their bills, Bid we to flee. Come with the dawn, Blue-devil sprite, Leave us to-night, Round the old tree. |
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