(...)" Tucked in warm and snug together, whisking through the winter weather Where the tinkle of the sleigh-bells is the only sound that stirs. You just sit here and grow chubby off the goodies in my cubby From December to December, till your white beard sweeps your knees; For you must allow, my Goodman, that you're but a lazy woodman And rely on me to foster all our fruitful Christmas trees. While your Saintship waxes holy, year by year, and roly-poly, Blessed by all the lads and lassies in the limits of the land, While your toes at home you're toasting, then poor Goody must go posting(...)".