Wassail!

General Fruit Growing
1

Here’s to thee, old apple tree
Whenst thou mayst bud
and whenst thou may blow!
And whenst thou may bear apples enow!

Hat’s full! Caps full
Bushel-bushel sacks full!
And my pocket full too! Huzza!

-from a Gentleman’s Magazine 1791

13 Likes
2

I’m sharing a New York Times article on the revival of Wassailing in England. Not really a revival, though; just more people paying attention.

1 Like
3

Thank you very much for that. Not only was the article an enjoyable one to read, but paging through the reader’s comments for a couple of minutes helped put me into a more happy frame of mind by seeing the others whose spirits were lifted by a positive story in our present news cycle of negativity (and I don’t even keep up with the news!).

2 Likes
4

You can see what the Dionysian urge is about without reading all of:

I provide a couple of literary examples:

e. e. cummings (1920)

in Just-
spring           when the world is mud-
luscious the little
lame balloonman

whistles          far          and wee

and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it’s
spring

when the world is puddle-wonderful

the queer
old balloonman whistles
far          and             wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing

from hop-scotch and jump-rope and

it’s
spring
and

         the

                  goat-footed

balloonMan          whistles
far
and
wee

It’s that keening March wind and a hopping gait that seeing the Morris Dancers made me think of.

The Raggedy Man (1888)
By James Whitcomb Riley

O the Raggedy Man! He works fer Pa;
An’ he’s the goodest man ever you saw!
He comes to our house every day,
An’ waters the horses, an’ feeds ‘em hay;
An’ he opens the shed—an’ we all ist laugh
When he drives out our little old wobble-ly calf;
An’ nen—ef our hired girl says he can—
He milks the cow fer ‘Lizabuth Ann.—
    Ain’t he a’ awful good Raggedy Man?
        Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!

W’y, The Raggedy Man—he’s ist so good,
He splits the kindlin’ an’ chops the wood;
An’ nen he spades in our garden, too,
An’ does most things ‘at boys can’t do.—
He clumbed clean up in our big tree
An’ shooked a’ apple down fer me—
An’ 'nother ‘n’, too, fer ‘Lizabuth Ann—
An’ ‘nother ‘n’, too, fer The Raggedy Man.—
    Ain’t he a’ awful kind Raggedy Man?
        Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!

An’ The Raggedy Man one time say he
Pick’ roast’ rambos from a’ orchurd-tree,
An’ et ‘em—all ist roast’ an’ hot!—
An’ it’s so, too!—‘cause a corn-crib got
Afire one time an’ all burn’ down
On “The Smoot Farm,” ‘bout four mile from town—
On “The Smoot Farm”! Yes—an’ the hired han’
'At worked there nen 'uz The Raggedy Man!—
    Ain’t he the beatin’est Raggedy Man?
        Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!

The Raggedy Man’s so good an’ kind
He’ll be our “horsey,” an’ “haw” an’ mind
Ever’thing ‘at you make him do—
An’ won’t run off—‘less you want him to!
I drived him wunst way down our lane
An’ he got skeered, when it ‘menced to rain,
An’ ist rared up an’ squealed and run
Purt’ nigh away!—an’ it’s all in fun!
Nen he skeered ag’in at a’ old tin can …
    Whoa! y’ old runaway Raggedy Man!
        Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!

An’ The Raggedy Man, he knows most rhymes,
An’ tells ‘em, ef I be good, sometimes:
Knows ‘bout Giunts, an’ Griffuns, an’ Elves,
An’ the Squidgicum-Squees ‘at swallers the’rselves:
An’, wite by the pump in our pasture-lot,
He showed me the hole 'at the Wunks is got,
'At lives ‘way deep in the ground, an’ can
Turn into me, er 'Lizabuth Ann!
Er Ma, er Pa, er The Raggedy Man!
    Ain’t he a funny old Raggedy Man?
        Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!

An’ wunst, when The Raggedy Man come late,
An’ pigs ist root’ thue the garden-gate,
He ‘tend like the pigs ‘uz bears an’ said,
“Old Bear-shooter’ll shoot 'em dead!”
An’ race’ an’ chase’ ‘em, an’ they’d ist run
When he pint his hoe at ‘em like it’s a gun
An’ go “Bang!—Bang!” nen ‘tend he stan’
An’ load up his gun ag’in! Raggedy Man!
    He’s an old Bear-shooter Raggedy Man!
        Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!

An’ sometimes The Raggedy Man lets on
We’re little prince-children, an’ old King’s gone
To git more money, an’ lef’ us there—
And Robbers is ist thick ever’where;
An’ nen—ef we all won’t cry, fer shore—
The Raggedy Man he’ll come and “splore
The Castul-halls,” an’ steal the “gold”—
An’ steal us, too, an’ grab an’ hold
An’ pack us off to his old “Cave”!—An’
    Haymow’s the “cave” o’ The Raggedy Man!—
        Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!

The Raggedy Man—one time, when he
Wuz makin’ a little bow-‘n’-orry fer me,
Says “When you’re big like your Pa is,
Air you go’ to keep a fine store like his—
An’ be a rich merchunt—an’ wear fine clothes?—
Er what air you go’ to be, goodness knows?”
An’ nen he laughed at ‘Lizabuth Ann,
An’ I says “‘M go’ to be a Raggedy Man!—
    I’m ist go’ to be a nice Raggedy Man!”
        Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!

2 Likes
5

Thanks for posting this link. Interesting read.

2 Likes