Dancing and merry the costumed stream in; Party along the rural roads; Masked and excited they knock for a show, “Any mummers ‘lowed in?” Fiddles that carry have bows drawn taught; Drink galore, tradition a lot. The revelers who are revealed unmask themselves, Drawn bare from rag and disguise. English tradition ripe with Newfoundland pride; Entertainment so cheep to abide; Dance for a shot of whiskey, We’ll even stand for a kiss or two. Celebrate the seasonal tide; Door to door and welcome for pie. Those who dare may be near to you. Guess if you want, they’ll still fool you! Men dressed as women and guess again, Now I’m a man so pour me a grin. Dance with mother, she’ll smile a lot. Sit around that shot hit the spot! Now we’ll leave and bare your place; Off to another’s for more festive pace. Twelve days to celebrate birth; After all he rules the earth. All leading to Christmas, we’ll do it again; Tomorrow brings another bottle of gin. Can’t help the feeling I’ve got down below; Warm and fuzzy from spreading the show.