The Lord of Misrule
In the London of James
We ran wild in the parks,
Assaulted the toffs,
Ruled the streets after dark,
We slit many noses,
Ungirdled each wench,
And lifted their kirtles on
Many a park bench.
They called us the Mohocks
We rambled each street,
Tipped many a chair
On its side in the street,
Caused mayhem and riot
And ran with the sword,
Put pastors to pleas
On their knees to the Lord!
When Christmas, it came in
A quiver of white,
We’d shiver, and wander
The streets every night,
While citizens revelled,
Stayed home, rich and poor,
Heaped coals at the hearth,
Locked and bolted each door.
‘The fun has gone out of it, ’
Grumbled Long Will,
‘There’s no head to punch,
And no Doxie to spill,
The streets are quite empty
And quiet as the tomb,
There’ll be no glad rioting
This night, or soon! ’
So Bodger and Catchpenny,
Long Will and Gull,
Stood frowning at Patrick
Who scratched at his skull,
‘This time of the season
They’re playing the fool,
So let us join in with
The Lord of Misrule! ’
They stood up, delighted
And mad as a coot,
They capered and cantered
And Will played the flute,
Gull got him a Tabor and
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poem by David Lewis Paget
Added by Poetry Lover
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