PLEASE TO SEE THE KING
Joy, health, love, and peace be all here in this place
By your leave, we will sing concerning our King
Our King is well dressed, in silks of the best
In ribbons so rare, no king can compare
We have traveled many miles, over hedges and stiles
In search of our King, unto you we bring
We have powder and shot, to conquer the lot
With Cannon and ball, to conquer them all
Old Christmas is past, Twelfth Night is the last
And we bid you adieu, great joy to the new
(* The king was the wren. The wren was the king of the birds.
In
ancient religions the king was sacrificed every seven years for
the fertility and good of the tribe.
In some places (Ireland)
the queen was royal and married new consorts to be sacrificed.
The consort was treated well for seven years (or one year) and
then sacrificed by the new consort.
A wren was killed and
dressed up in ribbons, etc. and carried around the village.
This is from Pembrokeshire in South Wales,
commemorating the wren- killing on St. Steven's Day, Dec 26.
Old Christmas, still
celebrated rather than December 25, is Twelfth Night)
[Thanks to tycoch for correcting these lyrics]