Brent Knoll - Wassail
Where has all the blossom gone ?
Very sweet but a bit sour
Green and round and white inside
Golden apples are a treat
When autumn come the apples will start to fall.

Wassail Wassail in the black of night
Wasail Wassail it gives me a fright
Wassail. Wassail please come next year
Wassail Wassail Let's go Here here.
-- Joseph Harrington --


The red and green apples are lush to eat
And as I sit
Among the my tree
I like to think
I love thee
The wet apples
Taste brill
In my mouth
The pressing stage
Makes lovely cider.

The black knights fight
In the darkened night
Until the good guys come
And battle them down
The belly dancers come
Probably end up freezing
In the near distance you can hear banging
The people in the orchard trying to scare bad spirits
People soak toast in cider and chuck it in trees
The birds eat it then bash into trees
Fire juggling men
Drop their fire sticks.
-- Kris Vearncombe --


A man juggling with flaming sticks
lanterns look like candle sticks
Soaking toast with cider
And giving it to the birds
Drunk old Robin flying around
Hits into a wall and then falls down.
-- Anon --


Group Poems
Wassail & Mumming poem
There was jesters and flames
Picking up apples off the tree
All the grown up's drinking tea.
Belly dancers start to wobble,
Wobble here, wobble there
Poor robin is all dizzy
Aunt Sandra serving the drinks
The jester juggles his fire sticks
The Black night killed St George
Oh apple tree Grow apples this year
The big pig turned on the big turning stick
The black knights fight in the darkened night
Until the good guys come and battle them down
Now die. I give up now Now I will be good
I promise now I give up.
Fireworks go bang all over the gang
Making noise deafens the boys
People singing nicely
Lots of happy people Drunk old
Robin flying around.
There was jesters and flames
Picking up apples off the tree
All the grown up's drinking tea.
Belly dancers start to wobble,
Wobble here, wobble there,
Poor robin is all dizzy
Aunt Sandra serving the drinks
The jester juggles his fire sticks
The Black night killed St George
Oh apple tree Grow apples this year
The big pig turned on the big turning stick
The black knights fight
In the darkened night
Until the good guys come
And battle them down
Now die. I give up now
Now I will be good
I promise now I give up.
Fireworks go bang all over the gang
Making noise deafens the boys
People singing nicely
Lots of happy people.
Drunk old Robin flying around.
Squish the apples from the orchard
Morgan Sweet, Tom Putt
Kingston Black, Major
Brown Snout, Greeny brown
Sweet coppin orangey red
All in buckets round our legs.

Cider toast in the trees
Getting drunk through the night
Jester juggles with fiery sticks
Balancing on a wobbly unicycle.
Fireworks then dancers dance
Then fireworks again
We make lots on noise
Actors fight in the jester's light.

My picture went seriously wrong !
-- Chloe Crandon --


Morgan sweet is in the orchard
Lovely juicy and early yellow
Being carried to the press in buckets
They look like little suns
And then we crush them
And say goodbye to the sun shines
Bye bye.

Wind is like your friend
Wind is like your shadow
I ate apple cake
And roast pork sandwich
Helped make the fires
Washed down the floors
Dad's been on the gate for ages.
Wassail Wassail.
-- Georgina Howard --


Wassail Wassail
Wake up the trees
Feed the robins Feed the robins
Pour the cider round the tree
Lanterns a light, lanterns aglow
Walk round the fire
Walk round the fire
Watch the belly dancers
Watch the belly dance
Warm at the fire
Warm at the fire
Feed the tree, feed the tree
Fight the bad spirits
Fight the bad spirits
Wassail Wassail
-- Chloe Dixon --



 Home |  Contact |  Butleigh Primary |  Brent Knoll |  Creech St. Michael |  Kingsbury Episcopi |  Hugh Sexey
Please contact us with questions or comments regarding this site.
Copyright © 2002-2019 Website Administrator.  All Rights Reserved.
Rubicon Computer Services - Web Design Site Designed by