It's that time of year for mulled cider.
The apple harvest is taken in,
Listen to its golden juice ferment,
Now abstinence would be a sin.
Leave your work in the field,
Gather round the rustic fire,
To King Apple you must yield
And have whatever you desire.
Women and men fill your cups,
Taste the brew of Adam's Fall,
Toast King Apple with your sups,
And forgive the sinner one and all.
For Life is short and often sour,
Just like the fruit on the tree,
But King Apple has the power
To mellow the likes of you and me.
And now a truer King is born,
Toast His name with Adam's Ale,
See in the joy of Christmas morn
With both a carol and a wassail!
Poetry by Christopher Fernie
Read 613 times
Written on 2016-11-18 at 12:52
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King Apple
Women and men no more lament,The apple harvest is taken in,
Listen to its golden juice ferment,
Now abstinence would be a sin.
Leave your work in the field,
Gather round the rustic fire,
To King Apple you must yield
And have whatever you desire.
Women and men fill your cups,
Taste the brew of Adam's Fall,
Toast King Apple with your sups,
And forgive the sinner one and all.
For Life is short and often sour,
Just like the fruit on the tree,
But King Apple has the power
To mellow the likes of you and me.
And now a truer King is born,
Toast His name with Adam's Ale,
See in the joy of Christmas morn
With both a carol and a wassail!
Poetry by Christopher Fernie
Read 613 times
Written on 2016-11-18 at 12:52
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
