Wassail! wassail! all over the town,
Our toast it is white and our ale it is brown;
Our bowl it is made of the white maple tree;
With the wassailing bowl, we'll drink to thee!

Jolly Wassailers prepare to make their way from the Slip Tavern, Much Marcle, to one of the Weston family's apple orchards. Why? Well, someone has to wake up the trees or there'll be no apples this year.

A ritual with undeniable Pagan connections , the origins of Wassailing are not fully known. Hosted by Ledbury's own Silurian Morris, the Much Marcle ceremony begins with the thanking of the tree for its bounty in the previous year (a bit odd, because the tree isn't actually supposed to be awake just yet - that comes later). Twelve fires are lighted and a "sacred bush" made from last year's twigs is burned in honour of the tree. After a round of Wassail songage, all present are invited to make the loudest noise they can, shouting and banging miscellaneous hardware, to scare away evil spirits and to awaken the tree. Huge fun, and when else do you get the excuse to quaff outrageous quantities of cider and carry lighted torches aloft?

Not everyone agrees with this practice. "Aw, just three more months, pleeeease...", complained one tree during the awakening ceremony.