A Christmas Wassail Or Be You Healthy This Christmastide Poem by Brian P FitzGerald

We gather today to wish you health -
Wæs hæl, wæs hæl a toast to all;
For you we raise a glass for wealth
A heartfelt toast that's not too small.

Wæs hæl, wæs hæl!

Ignored he sits, cold and homeless -
Wæs hæl, wæs hæl to Bernie dejected;
Bottle in hand, unloved and rootless
By shoppers avoided, despised, rejected.

Tesco customers pass him by -
Wæs hæl, wæs hæl a toast to you
Christmas is coming, so much to buy,
God bless us all - so festive and true.

Wæs hæl, wæs hæl!

Ebolo, this Christmas to families so dread -
Wæs hæl, wæs hæl for those who wait to die;
And to those who bury the dead,
For doctors and nurses, their safety deny.

For those who flee Islamic State -
Wæs hæl, wæs hæl to those who perished;
Beheaded by blades of butchers who hate.
For evil that stalks, a demonic that's cherished.

Remember the dying of war-torn Syria -
Wæs hæl, wæs hæl to children of famine,
Orphans alone from Guinea to Somalia,
Scratching existence from a soil so barren.

Wæs hæl, wæs hæl!

So raise your glasses enjoy your health -
Wæs hæl, wæs hæl a toast to all;
Happy are we, but what's the truth -
A birth, long past - a child so small?

Wæs hæl, wæs hæl!