GOATS scrape so long they spoil their bed;
Pitchers till split to wells are ta’en;
Iron is heated till ’tis red,
And hammered till it bursts in twain;
Man’s worth, just how the child we train;
Who travel far will disappear;
We call out Christmas till ’tis here.
Men jest till power to laugh has fled;
Who leans on others, hopes in vain;
Waste leads to want is truly said;
One bird in hand beats chance of twain;
God’s love doth love of Church sustain;
Much giving is to borrowing near;
The wind shifts till it brings the rain;
We call out Christmas till ’tis here.
Dogs lick the hands by which they’re fed;
Songs fun till all the tune retain;
Fruit kept too long does mold o’erspread;
Towns long besieged the foes will gain;
Who wait too long no luck obtain;
With overhaste you get not near;
By clutching long you overstrain;
We call out Christmas till ’tis here.
Prince, fools live on till wit they gain;
Men voyage till they homeward steer;
Those cheated long from rogues refrain;
We call our Christmas till ’tis here.
I KNOW when milk does flies contain;
I know men by their bravery;
I know fair days from storm and rain;
And what fruit apple-trees supply;
And from their gums the trees descry;
I know when all things smoothly flow;
I know who toil or idle lie;
All things except myself I know.
I know the doublet by the grain;
The monk beneath the hood can spy;
Master from man can ascertain;
I know the nun’s veiled modesty;
I know when sportsmen fables ply;
Know fools who creams and dainties stow;
Wine from the butt I certify;
All thinks except myself I know.
Know horse from mule by tail and mane;
I know their worth or high or low;
Bell, Beatrice, I know the twain;
I know each chance of cards and die;
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I know what visions prophesy,
Bohemian heresies, I trow;
I know men of each quality;
All things except myself I know.
Prince, I know all things ’neath the sky,
Pale cheeks from those of rosy glow;
I know death whence no man can fly;
All things except myself I know.