A Rime for the New Year

Now ‘tis the brave New Year, a gladsome time,
When churls and lords alike do raise a cup,
And crying ‘Cheers!’ swill down their pints of ale,
Of which the half-pint measure doth least harm,
(Unless thou drinkst it with a swinish thirst).
But let’s not think on that, now is the time
To raise a glass and sing a jocund song,
Mayhap ‘Ye Promised Land’ or ‘Maybelline’,
Or something by Ye Stones, a famèd band,
Much loved for songs of Afric maids, I trow,
Whose lay of Sugar Brown would cause much stir
And divers acts of foolish terpsichore
Like they were mad that thronged the Earls Court floor.
‘When thou walkst in the Room’ we could essay,
‘An Hard Day’s Night’ and ‘Dost thou wish to dance’;
With these we’d make the rafters ring, God wot!
So here’s to New Year’s mirth throughout the land,
And many gigges for our merrie Band.