The Cidermakers' Wassail

Here's to thee, old apple tree

Whence thou may'st bud and may'st blow

Here's to thee, old apple tree

May you bear apples enow

Chorus

Hats full, caps full

Bushel, bushel sacks full

(and a heap under the stairs)

Hats full, caps full

Bushel, bushel sacks full

(wassail the apples and pears)

The Spring returns, new songs abound

and life bursts from the ground

The buzzing of bees in blossoms on trees

The orchard's joyous sound

Chorus

The summer sun begins to grow

The fruits begin to show

The brightest light, the shortest night

and soon the juices will flow

Chorus

Autumn's here, the summer is done

the harvest has begun

Picking and tumping and pressing and pumping

the sweetness and strength from the sun

Chorus

Winter comes, the ground grows cold

The year it is growing old

The apples and pears are leafless and bare

A mug of warm cider to hold

Chorus

The cellar is stacked, the cider is racked

The barrels are full to the brim

The doors open wide, friends and music inside

Waiting for you to come in

Chorus

Here's to thee, old apple tree

Whence thou may'st bud and may'st blow

Here's to thee, old apple tree

May you bear apples enow

Chorus

copyright Chava Richman 2003