Poem by Eleanor Farjeon

The Mummers

Here’s greeting for the master,
And for the mistress greeting,
And greeting for each gallant lad
And every pretty sweeting,
And greeting for the little children
Dancing round our meeting.

We be your servants all,
We be merry mummers;
We know jolly winter’s face
Though we ne’er saw summer’s;
We come in wi’ the end o’ the year,
For we be Christmas-comers.

This here do be Saint George,
This the heathen Paynim,
Dragon he will drink your healths
When Saint George has slain him,
This do be a beautiful maid
And a trouble ’twere to train him!

There’s our mumming ended
And nothing to distress ye--
Surely, we be little loth
Since so kindly press ye.
Here’s God bless ye, master, mistress,
All the house, God bless ye!

1. Solitary
2. Wild Hyacinth
3. Sonnets. 9. Love Needs not Two the Render It Complete
4. Sonnets. 10. What is this anguish then that always stands
5. In the Oculist's Anteroom

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