Normale Version: On Christmas
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With footstep slow, in furry pall yclad,
His brows enwreathed with holly never-sear,
Old Christmas comes, to close the waned year;
And ay the shepherd's heart to make right glad;

Who, when his teeming flocks are homeward had,
To blazing hearth repairs, and nut-brown beer,
And views, well-pleased, the ruddy prattlers dear
Hug the gray mongrel; meanwhile maid and lad

Squabble for rosted crabs. - Thee, Sire, we hail,
Whether thine aged limbs thou dost enshroud,
In vest of snowy white, and hoary veil,

Or wrap'st thy visage in a sable cloud;
Thee we proclaim with mirth and cheer, nor fail
To greet thee well with many a carol loud.