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"The Friars of Fail drank berry-brown ale, The best that e'er was tasted; The Monks of Melrose made gude kale On Fridays, when they fasted. Saint Monance' sister. The gray priest kist her Fiend save the company! Sing hay trix, trim-go-trix. Under the greenwood tree."
"The Bishop rich, he could not preach For sporting with the lasses; The silly friar behoved to fleech For awmous as he passes: The curate his creed He could not read, Shame fa' company! Sing hay trix, trim-go-trix, Under the greenwood tree."
Giants and dwarfs, dragons and griffins, hobby-horses and goblins, Robin Hood and the Grand Turk, bears and boars and fantastic animals that never had a name, boys and girls, men and women, in every imaginable costume and device around and around the hall they went, still ringing out the chorus: "Sing hey-trix, trim-go-trix, Under the mistletoe!"
His long staff, topped with a fool's head, cap, and bells, rang loudly on the floor, as, preceded by his diminutive but pompous page, he led his train around and around the great hall, lustily singing the chorus: "Like prince and king he leads the ring; Right merrily we go. Sing hey-trix, trim-go-trix, Under the mistletoe!"
Edinburgh, printed by Andro Hart." This curious collection has been reprinted in Mr. John. "The Paip, that pagan full of pride, Hath blinded us ower lang. For where the blind the blind doth lead, No marvel baith gae wrang. Like prince and king, He led the ring Of all iniquity. Sing hay trix, trim-go-trix, Under the greenwood tree.
Sing hay trix, trim-go-trix, Under the greenwood tree. "I think," he added, "that could Sir Halbert's patience have stretched till we came that length, he would have had a hearty laugh, and that is what he seldom enjoys." "If it be all true that men tell of his early life," said Roland, "he has less right to laugh at goblins than most men."
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