Classic Poem

Christmas is my name, far have I gone, have I gone, have I gone,
have I gone without regard,
Whereas great men, by flocks they be flown, they be flown,
they be flown, they be flown to London ward,
Where they in pomp and pleasure do waste
that which Christmas had wont to feast;
Wellay day.
Houses where music was wonted to ring,
Nothing but bats, and owls now do sing
Wellay day, wallay day, wallay day, where should I stay.

Christmas bread and beef is turned into stones, into stones, into stones,
Into stones and silken rags.
And lady money it doth sleep, it doth sleep, it doth sleep,
It doth sleep in misers' bags.
Where many gallants once abound
Nought but a dog and a shepherd is found,
Wellay day.
Places where Christmas revels did keep,
Are now become habitations for sheep.
Wallay day, wallay day, wellay day, where should I stay.

Pan, the shepherd's god, doth deface, doth deface, doth deface,
doth deface, Lady Ceres crown,
And tilliges doth decay, doth decay, doth decay,
doth decay in every town.
Landlords their rents so highly enhance,
That Peares the plowman barefoot doth dance,
Wellay day.

Farmers that Christmas would entertain,
hath scarsely withal them selves to maintain,
Wellay day, wellay day, wellay day, where should I stay.
Go to the Protestant, he'll protest, he'll protest, he'll protest,
he will protest and boldly boast,
And to the Puritan, he is so hot, he is so hot, he is so hot,
he is so hot he will burn the roast,
The Catholic good deeds will not scorn,
nor will not see poor Christmas forlorn,
Wellay day.
Since Holiness no good deeds will do,
Protestants had best turn Papists too,
Wellay day, wellay day, wellay day, where should I stay.

Pride and Luxury doth devour, doth devour, doth devour,
doth devour house keeping quite,
And beggary doth beget, doth beget, doth beget,
doth beget in many a knight.
Madam for sooth in coach she must reel
Although she wear her hose out at heel,
Wellay day.
And on her back were that for her weed,
that would both me, and many other feed,
Wellay day, wellay day, wellay day, where should I stay.

Briefly for to end, here I find, here I find,
here I find such great vacation
That some great houses do seem to have, seem to have, seem to have,
for to have some great purgation,
With purging pills, such effects they have showed,
that out of doors, their owners they have spewed.
Wellay day.
And when Christmas goes by and calls,
Nothing but solitude, and naked walls,
Wellay day, wellay day, wellay day, where should I stay.

Philemel's cottages are turned into gold, into gold,
Into gold for harboring Jove.
And great mens' houses up for to hold, up for to hold,
up for to hold, make great men moan,
But in the city they say they do live,
Where gold by handfuls away they do give,
Wellay day.
And therefor thither I purpose to pass,
hoping at London to find the golden ass,
I'll away, I'll away, I'll away, I'll no longer stay.