Standing 'neath the mistletoe,
We sang a Carol song,
And other Ladies of the Night
Joined in to sing along;
We knelt to Hail the Virgin Birth,
And Christ's Nativity,
But when we stood around the crib,
Obdormition pained my knee!
"Stop fidgeting!" said Auntie Crist,
"You'll give us a bad name!"
"It wasn't half so bad," said I,
"When I was on The Game!"
"Dear God!" cried Auntie May at last,
When she had had enough,
"Will that girl put a sock in it?
I've quite forgot my snuff!"
And that was when the Curate came,
And led me from the Hall,
He kissed me underneath the stars,
But kissing wasn't all!
His hands they went a'roving,
Inside my winter coat,
And he gave me his tongue to suck,
The silly, Billy Goat!
"I don't want that!" I cried aloud,
"You horrid dirty man!"
Which drew a rather restive crowd,
Who didn't give a Damn!
They chased him down the ancient street,
Past Abbey, Church and all,
But half across the swinging bridge,
He was observed to fall,
Into the rushing, foaming Tweed,
As it went dashing past,
And he was carried out to sea,
Amo, Amat, Amas!
God rest ye Merry Gentlemen,
Please take this tale to heart,
And don't molest a Caroller,
And take her for a Tart!