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Wassailing

Wassailing your apple trees

The word “wassail” comes from the Anglo Saxon “waes hael”, which means “to your health” or “be whole”. The custom of wassailing is a very old one and comes in the middle of winter as a sign that Spring is coming.

There are two kinds of wassail. The oldest surviving apple tree wassail takes place at Carhampton in Somerset on the evening of 17 th January (Old Twelfth Night) each year but the custom took place in many other areas, particularly in Herefordshire, Worcestershire and Sussex (where it was called Apple Howling). The purpose is to encourage a good crop of apples in the coming season. It always works!!

The visiting wassail is a bit like carol singing – the wassailers go from house to house singing to the household and asking for food, drink or money. The two oldest surviving visiting wassails are at Drayton in Somerset (on 5 January) and Bodmin in Cornwall (on 6 January).

How to wassail your apple trees

The assembled company surround a tree and toasted bread, soaked in cider, is placed in the branches of the tree (supposedly for the robins).

Cider is poured into the roots of the tree.

Everyone sings to the tree:

Old apple tree we wassail thee and hoping thou wilt bear
For the Lord doth know where we may be ‘til apples another year
For to bloom well and to bear well so merry let us be
Let everyone take up their cup and drink to the old apple tree

Then everyone calls out to the tree:

Old apple tree we wassail thee and hoping thou wilt bear
Hatfuls, capfuls, three bushel bagfuls and a little heap under the stairs
Hip hi hooray!

Then a great noise is made, customarily with shotguns being fired through the branches of the tree.

The wassail ceremony is very simple and short but feel free to add your own variations.

Some people have a Wassail Queen or King. Others use the wassail as the excuse for holding an annual party for friends and family, perhaps having a barbecue and mulled wine or cider. Some people get musicians to lead the assembled company in procession to the orchard. You might bring in a local group of morris dancers to add further colour and entertainment – but make sure the dancers can be seen and that they have a flat, even and firm surface to dance on. You might also research a local mummers play in your local studies library and get a group of friends to perform that to your guests.

The Apple Tree Man

You might also research and tell a local story. Here is one from Ruth Tongue, who collected stories in Somerset

Now, in times past if a chap died his land passed on, not to the eldest son as is the custom these days, but to the youngest. That's very important to my story.

‘Cause there was this hard working chap, see, as was the eldest of a long family. So when his dad died there weren't nothing left for ‘ee. His youngest brother gets it all. Spoilt young house-bird he were. And he didn't like his eldest brother, see. He didn't like him at all. So all that he let ‘ee have was his dad's old dunk (that's a donkey) and an ox that had gone to anatomy (that's a skeleton) and a tumble down cottage with two or three ancient old apple trees where his dad used to live to with his grandf'r. But the oldest chap he didn't grumble like a lot of folks would. He goes cutting the grass along the lane. And he gives that grass to the dunk and this old dunkey began to fatten hisself up a bit. Then he rubbed the ox's side with herbs and he said the words, magic words. And this old ox began to perk hisself up and walk smart. And then he turned they two beasties into the orchard and they old apples trees began to flourish and marvel. Well they would, wouldn't they. But all this work didn't leave him no time to find his rent. Oh yes, the youngest brother had to have his rent. Dap on the dot, too. Greedy young guzzle-bag. Any road up, one day the youngest brother he comes into the orchard and he says, “Now, tomorrow ‘twill be Christmas Eve when beasts can talk. We all know there's a treasure buried here abouts and I'm all set to ask your dunk and your ox where ‘tis hid to. You wake me up just afore midnight and I'll take a whole sixpence off your rent.”

As I was telling you, the following day it was Christmas Eve and come nightfall who should come wandering into the orchard but the little cat from down Tibb's Farm. Pretty little thing her was. Not much more than a kitten really with face as clean as a daisy, but her wanted to know too much for her own good. And here her was wandering around the orchard, nightfall on Christmas Eve when out popped the Apple Tree Man and the Apple Tree Man said, “You go home my dear. This is no place for you. There's folks coming tonight to pour cider through my roots and fire off guns through my branches. You get on home and don't ‘ee come back here till St Tibb's Eve.” Well the little kitten ran off with her tail stiff with fright, properly scared she the Apple Tree Man did and her never went back in the orchard again ‘cause her didn't know when St Tibb's Eve were. Nor do anybody else for that matter, do they? Anybody here know? Well all this is going on see, the eldest brother he put a sprig of holly up in the shippen, that's the cow shed, and he give his dunk and his ox a bit extra to eat ‘cause ‘tis Christmas. And he took his last jug of cider and he mulled it by the ashen faggot. Then out to the orchard to give un to the apple tree. He was just pouring the cider down through the roots of the apple tree when out popped the Apple Tree Man and the Apple Tree Man said, “You look under this gurt diggety root of mine and you'll find summat to do you a bit of good.” Well the chap looked under the root and there he found a chest of the finest gold. “'Tis yourn and no-one else.” says the Apple Tree Man. You put un away safe and bide quiet about un. So he done that. “Now you can call your dear brother and tell him ‘tis midnight.” Well the youngest brother come running out in the orchard in a terrible hurry-push. And sure enough the dunk was just talking to the ox. “You'd a mind this gurt greedy fool that's listening to ‘ee so unmannerly. ‘Ee do want we should tell ‘ee where the treasure's hid to.” “And that's where ‘ee ain't going to get it.” says the ox, “'cause someone have it took ‘ee already. And if you ask me it served him right too.” And that was the last words that they two beasts ever spoke. But even to this day, in the West Country we still wassail the trees that they may bear many an apple or many a pear, for the more or less fruit they will bring as we do give them wassailing. So here's to thee old apple tree that thou may'st blow and thou may'st bow and that thou may'st have apples in thou hats full, caps full, three bushel bags full, little heaps in under the stairs. Hip, hip, hooray!

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Folk South West is the folk arts development organisation for the South West of England. It works to stimulate enjoyment, participation and creativity in the music, song, dance and traditions of the counties of Cornwall , Devon, Dorset, Somerset , Gloucestershire and Wiltshire.