Christmas Lamentations
	Christmas is my name, far have I gone, have I gone, have I gone Have I gone without regard Whereas great men by flocks there be flown, there be flown, there be flown There be flown to London-ward There they in pomp and pleasure do waste That which old Christmas was wont to feast Welladay, welladay, welladay, where should I stay? Houses where music was wont to ring Nothing but bats and howlets do sing Welladay, welladay, welladay, where should I stay? Christmas beef and bread is turn'd to stones, into stones, into stonesr> Into stones and silken rags And Lady Money sleeps and makes moans, and makes moans, and makes moans> And makes moans in miser's bags Houses where pleasures once did abound Naught but a dog and a shepherd are found Welladay, welladay, welladay, where should I stay? Places where Christmas revels did keep Are now become habitations for sheep Welladay, welladay, welladay, where should I stay?
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