| A-wassail, a-wassail, throughout all the town. Our cup it is white and our ale it is brown. Our wassail is made of the good ale and true, Some nutmeg and ginger, it’s the best we can do. Fol the dol, the dol-de-dol, Fol the dol-de-dol, fol the dol-de-dee, Fol the dero, fol the daddy, Sing tu-re-lye-do! Our wassail is made of the elderberry bough And so, my good neighbour, we’ll drink unto thou; Besides all of that, you’ll have apples in store, Pray let us come in for its cold by the door. Fol the dol, . . . &c. There’s a master and a mistress sitting down by the fire, While we poor wassailers do wait in the mire, And if we’re alive for another new year, Perhaps we may call and see who doth live here. Fol the dol, . . . &c. We know by the moon that we are not too soon, We know by the sky that we are not too high, We know by the stars that we are not too far, We know by the ground that we are within sound. Fol the dol, . . . &c. |
| ‘Ma grün war ’n gelynen, ‘ga lyü-ÿ
lëthwyn Ha Jësus ö maylyes yn dyllas owrlyn Ha Mam ö an Vaghteth, Marÿa Mam Dew Ha gwedhen an gwella, an gelynen yü Kelyn, kelyn Ha gwedhen an gwella, an gelynen yü ‘Ma grün war ’n gelynen, ‘ga lyü-ÿ gwelswer Ha Jësus ö croswys, ÿ Vam yn awhër ‘Ma grün war ’n gelynen, ‘ga lyü-ÿ gosruth Ha Jësus yü ‘gan Sylw’as, y vermans mar drüth ‘Ma grün war ’n gelynen, ‘ga lyü-ÿ glowdhü Ha Jësus ö marrow, dredho nÿ a vew |
Now the holly bears a berry as white as any milk And Mary bore Jesus who was wrapped up in silk. And Mary bore Jesus Christ, our Saviour for to be And the first tree of the greenwood, it was the holly Holly, holly And the first tree of the greenwood, it was the holly Now the holly bears a berry as green as the grass And Mary bore Jesus who died on the cross Now the holly bears a berry as red as the blood And Mary bore Jesus who died on the rood Now the holly bears a berry as black as the coal And Mary bore Jesus who dies for us all. |
The holly and the ivy The holly and the ivy, Are both now well Full grown. Of all the trees that are in the wood The holly bears the crown. O the rising of the sun, The running of the deer, The playing of the merry organ, Sweet singing in the choir. Green-o growth the holly, So doth the ivy, Though winter blasts blow ne’er so high, Green growth the holly O the rising etc.. Fast now fall the shed leaves, Russet and yellow But nesting buds are snug and safe Where swing the dead leaves-o O the rising etc.. Green-o growth the holly, So doth the ivy, The God of life can never die. “Hope!” saith the holly |
| J’ai vû le loup, le r’nard, le lièvre J’ai vû le loup, le r’nard, cheuler. C’est moi-même qui les ai r’beuillés J’ai ouï le loup, le r’nard, le lièvre J’ai ouï le loup, le r’nard chanter. C’est moi-même qui les ai r’chignés J’ai vû le loup, le r’nard, le lièvre J’ai vû le loup, le r’nard, danser. C’est moi-même qui les ai r’virés |
I saw the wolf, the fox, the hare, I saw the wolf, the fox getting drunk. And I myself bellowed back at them. I heard the wolf, the fox, the hare, I heard the wolf, the fox sing And I myself scowled back at them. I saw the wolf, the fox, the hare, I saw the wolf, the fox getting drunk. And I myself spun them around. |
| Wel, dyma ni’n dywad, Gyfeillion diniwad, I ofyn (o)sciawn gannad(x 3) I gianu. Os na chawn ni gannad, R(h)owch glywad ar ganiad Pa fodd ma’r ‘madawiad (x 3) Nos (h)eno. Ni dorson ein crimpa Wrth groesh’r sticila I ddyfod t(u)ag yma (x 3) Nos (h)eno Os o(e)s yno ddynion All dorri anglynion, R(h)owch glywad yn union (x 3) Nos (h)eno. Os aethoch r(h)y gynnar I’r gwely’n ddialgar O, codwch yn (h)awddgar (x 3) Nos (h)eno. Y dishan fras felys  phob sort o sbeisys, O, torrwch (h)i’n r(h)atus (x 3) Y Gwyla. O, tapwch y baril A ‘llengwch a’n r(h)ugul; Na rannwch a’n gynnil (x 3) Y Gwyla. |
Well here we come, Innocent friends To ask for permission (x 3) To sing If we don’t get permission, Let us hear out the song. What kind of leaving (x 3) Tonight. We bruised our shins Crossing over the style. To come here (x 3) Tonight. If there are men Who can write poetry, Let us hear them now (x 3) Tonight. If you went too early To bed in an angry mood, Oh, get up nicely (x 3) Tonight. The fat, sweet dish And all sorts of spices O cut it in portions (For) the holidays. Oh, tap the barrel [Which the lads deserve] (?) Don’t divide it so miserly (x 3) (On) the holidays. |
Y Wassael O dyma enw’r feinwen Sydd yn codi gyda’r seren A hon yw’r Wassael fawr ei chlod Sydd yn caru bod yn llawen Dymunwn ich’ lawennydd I gynnal blwydden newydd Tra paro’r gŵr yn tincian cloch Well, well y boch chwi beunydd. Ffarwel ich’, foneddigion Mi gawsom groeso ddigon Bendith Duw fo ar eich tai, A phob rhyw rai o’ch dynion. |
Oh, here’s the name of the maiden Who gets up with the star And this is the Wassail, greatly to be praised, Who loves to be merry. I wish you joy In having a New Year. As long as the man rings the bell May it keep getting better for you. Farewell to you, gentlemen, We had welcome enough. God’s blessing on your houses And to every one of your men. |
| Péh trouz zou ar en doar Péh kan a gleúan me Na kaeret er boehieú e za lein eun né Eled, lavaret d’emb eit petra e kannet? Peneú éted ar zé e zou arriú er bed? Arnet eúe genemb kannet pobl ag en doar? Ewan de laret d’ho eun né úèted hemb par Eur mabig beniget roué a Jerusalem E zo gannet eit-ho ér gér a vethléem |
What noise on earth? who is singing for me and who I am hearing how much I like these voices who sing in the skies and what do they say in their song? what is new that happened on earth? we hear the people sing on earth I come to tell you that in the sky there is something beyond compare a small child blessed, king of Jerusalem and who was born for them (the people) in the town of Bethlehem |
| Oer yw’r gŵr sy’n methu cary Hen fynyddoedd annwyl Cymru Iddo ef a’u câr cynhesaf Gwyliau llawen flwyddyn nesaf. I’r helbulus oer yw’r biliau Sydd yn dyfod yn y Gwyliau Gwrando begeth mewn un pennill Byth na waria fwy na’th ennill. Oer yw’r eira ar Eryi Er fod gwrthban gwlanen arni Oer yw’r bobol na ofalan’ Gwrdd a’u gilydd ar Nos Galan.. |
Cold is the man who does not love The old mountains of dear Wales. To him and his warmest love Happy holidays next year. To the worried one, bills are “cold”, The bills that come during the holidays. Listen to the sermon in one line - Don’t spend more than you earn! Cold is the snow on Snowdon Even though there is a wool blanket on it. Cold are the people who do not care To meet each other on New Year’s Eve. |
Document last modified on June 21, 2013 - IONA.