The abbot was counting his beads in his cell

With a flagon beside him. The abbot drank well,

And emptied it oft ere the first matin bell.

All quiet, all well.

"Hist! Brother Menander! A word in thine ear.

I'll show thee a way, if the corridor's clear,

To the abbot's own cellar. The abbot may hear?

Never fear! Never fear!"

Oh, Brother Menander, oh, bold Brother John,

Be chary, call wary on Mary her Son!

Ah, Jesu, the moon the cold snow shines on,

How bitter and wan!

So roundly they drank till the first matin bell,

And were caught by the abbot, as chronicles tell.

What would you! 'Twas Christmas Eve. So it befell.

And all quiet and well.