"OLD FATHER CHRISTMAS. ROOM. ANTHONY, the Egyptian King. ST. GEORGE. ST. PATRICK. CAPTAIN BLUSTER. GRACIOUS KING. GENERAL VALENTINE. COLONEL SPRING. OLD BETTY. DOCTOR. SERVANT-MAN."
Here comes I, Father Christmas, welcome, or welcome not, I hope Old Father Christmas will never be forgot. Although it is Old Father Christmas, he has but a short time to stay I am come to show you pleasure, and pass the time away. I have been far, I have been near, And now, I am come to drink a pot of your Christmas beer; And, if it is your best, I hope, in heaven your soul will rest. If it is a pot of your small, We cannot show you no Christmas at all. Walk in, Room, again I say, And, pray, good people, clear the way. Walk in, Room.
God bless you all, Ladies and Gentlemen, It's Christmas time, and I am come again. My name is Room, one sincere and true, A merry Christmas I wish to you. King of Egypt is for to display, A noble champion without delay. St. Patrick too, a charming Irish youth, He can fight, or dance, or love a girl with truth. A noble Doctor, I do declare, and his surprising tricks, bring up the rear. And let the Egyptian King straightway appear.
Here comes I, Anthony, the Egyptian King. With whose mighty acts, all round the globe doth ring; No other champion but me excels, Except St. George, my only son-in-law. Indeed, that wondrous Knight, whom I so dearly love, Whose mortal deeds the world dost well approve, The hero whom no dragon could affright, A whole troop of soldiers couldn't stand in sight. Walk in, St. George, his warlike ardour to display, And show Great Britain's enemies dismay. Walk in, St. George.
Here am I, St. George, an Englishman so stout, With those mighty warriors I long to have a bout; No one could ever picture me the many I have slain, I long to fight, it's my delight, the battle o'er again. Come then, you boasting champions, And here, that in war I doth take pleasure, I will fight you all, both great and small, And slay you at my leisure. Come, haste, away, make no delay, For I'll give you something you won't like, And, like a true-born Englishman, I will fight you on my stumps. And, now, the world I do defy, To injure me before I die. So, now, prepare for war, for that is my delight.