Originally prepared for textual analysis during his PhD research on the 'Origins and Development of English Folk Plays' by Peter Millington (2002).
Original spelling and typography is retained, except that superscripts, long s and ligatured forms are not encoded.
Line identifiers are those used for line types in the Folk Play Scripts Explorer.
"During the first half of the month of December, and occasionally almost up to Christmas, but never after, parties of eight or ten lads, of from twelve to sixteen or eighteen years of age, and belonging to the labouring or tradesman class, go about after dark performing 'the Christmas rhymes' in whatever houses they may be admitted to in the suburbs of Belfast and ins some of the surrounding villages. My experience does not extend further. These lads dress themselves for the occasion, by putting white shirts over their clothes, and wear tall caps of white paper pointed at the top, and with the front flat, something like the conventional bishop's mitre, with scraps of gilt and coloured paper pasted on for ornament. They are also provided with swords of hoop iron.
They police are not supposed to favour the rhymers, and the wayfarer who, passing along a dark road, suddenly encounters one of these ghost-like parties moving furtively along, if not acquainted with the institution, would fancy that he had wandered into the region of enchantment, or that the days of Whiteboyism had returned.
I have used the word 'institution,' and the Rhymers may be so regarded in this neighbourhood; they are sometimes a little boisterous, and their coming is regarded with some terror by old ladies or timid maid-servants; but in houses where materfamilias does not, for the nonce, object to a sudden inroad of half a dozen pairs of hobnailed boots into her nice hall, the children look on with great delight at the performance, although perhaps baby may scream at the blackened faces of Beelzebub and Devil Doubt.
After receiving a small present of money, the Christmas Rhymers move on to the next house.
The following are the Rhymes which, of course, have to be committed to memory by the different performers. I might say that the situation becomes very thrilling, when the Turk falls flat on his back transfixed by St. George's sword. Devil Doubt sweeps vigorously with a small besom while saying his part. The words are printed in little books, which are sold at a halfpenny each:-"