| Willie, take your little drum,â ¨
|
| Robin, bring your flute and come,
|
| When we hear the fife and drum,
|
| Tu-re-lu-re-lu, pat-a-pat-a-pan;â ¨
|
| When we hear the fife and drum:
|
| Christmas should be frolicsome.
|
| Take thy tabor and thy flute,
|
| None today must e’er be mute:
|
| With such jolly shepherd toys,
|
| Tu-re-lu-re-lu, pa-ta-pa-ta-pan;
|
| To the sound of this shrill noise,
|
| Let us raise a Noel, Boys!
|
| Long ago our fathers sang
|
| Such a song on this same day:
|
| 'Twas of Bethlehem, their lay,
|
| Tu-re-lu-re-lu, pa-ta-pa-ta-pan;
|
| Where wise kings and shepherds stray
|
| To the stars their music rang.
|
| As we join our choicest airs,
|
| In a hymn that upward fares:
|
| Earth and heaven seem near our prayers:
|
| Tu-re-lu-re-lu, pa-ta-pa-ta-pan;
|
| Vanish all our daily cares
|
| While we dance and sing Noel. |