Though the bubble of Farmer Tresidder's dreams was pricked that day,
there was feasting at Sheba until late in the evening. Nor until eleven
did the bride and bridegroom start off, arm in arm, to walk to their new
home. Before them, at a considerable distance, went the players and
singers--a black blur on the moonlit road; and very crisply their music
rang out beneath a sky scattered with cloud and stars. All their songs
were simple carols of the country, and the burden of them was but the
joy of man at Christ's nativity; but the young man and maid who walked
behind were well pleased.
"Now then," cried the voice of Old Zeb, "lads an' lasses all together
an' wi' a will--"
All under the leaves, an the leaves o' life,
I met wi' virgins seven,
An' one o' them was Mary mild,
Our Lord's mother of Heaven.
'O what are 'ee seekin', you seven fair maids,
All under the leaves o life;
Come tell, come tell, what seek ye
All under the leaves o' life?'
'We're seekin' for no leaves, Thomas,
But for a friend o' thine,
We're seekin' for sweet Jesus Christ
To be our guide an' thine.'
'Go down, go down, to yonder town
An' sit in the gallery,
An there you'll see sweet Jesus Christ
Nailed to a big yew-tree.
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