ave I my Tools? if not, I am undone:
For 'tis a law concerns both saint and sinner,
He that hath no knife must have no dinner.
So he falls on; pig, goose, and capon, feel
The goodness of his stomach and Batt's steel.
In such fierce frays, alas! there no remorse is;
All flesh is grass, which makes men feed like horses:
But when the battle's done, _off goes the hat_,
And each man sheaths, with God-a-mercy Batt.'"

"Batt upon Batt" also gives the following account of the Christmas
Gambols in 1694:--

"O mortal man! is eating all you do
At Christ-Tide? or the making Sing-songs? No:
Our Batt can _dance_, play at _high Jinks with Dice_,
At any primitive, orthodoxal Vice.
_Shooing the wild Mare, tumbling the young Wenches,
Drinking all Night_, and sleeping on the Benches.
Shew me a man can _shuffle fair and cut_,
Yet always _have three Trays in hand at Putt_:
Shew me a man can _turn up Noddy_ still,
And _deal himself three Fives too_ when he will:
Conclude with _one and thirty, and a Pair_,
Never fail _Ten in stock_, and yet play fair,
If Batt be not that Wight, I lose my aim."

Another enumeration of the festive sports of this season occurs (says
Brand) in a poem entitled Christmas--

"Young Men and Maidens, now
At _Feed the Dove_ (with laurel leaf in mouth)
Or _Blindman's Buff_, or _Hunt the Slipper_ play,
Replete with glee. Some, haply, _Cards_ adopt;
Of it to _Forfeits_ they the Sport confine,
The happy Folk, adjacent to the fire,
Their Stations take; excepting one alone.
(Sometimes the social Mistress of the house)
Who sits within the centre of the room,
To cry the pawns; much is the laughter, now,
Of such as can't the Christmas Catch repeat,
And who, perchance, are sentenc'd to salute
The jetty beauties of the chimney black,
Or Lady's shoe: others, more lucky far,
By hap or favour, meet a sweeter doom,
And on each fair-one's lovely lips imprint
The ardent kiss."

_Poor Robin's Almanack_ (1695) thus rejoices at the return of the
festival:--

"Now thrice welcome, Christmas,
Which brings us good cheer,
Minc'd-pies and plumb-porridge,
Good ale and strong beer;
With pig, goose, and capon,
The best that may be,
So well doth the weather
And our stomachs agree.

Observe how the chimneys
Do smoak all about,
The cooks are providing
For dinner, no doubt;
But those on whose tables