Christmas Carols, Ancient and Modern/A, my dere son

A, MY DERE SON.

A, my dere son, sayd mary, a, my dere,
kys þⁱ moder Jhesu w^t a lawghyng chere.

This endnes nyght I sawe a syght
all in my slepe,
Mary þ^t may she sang lullay
& sore did wepe.
To kepe she sawght full fast a bowte
her son fro colde;
Joseph seyd, wiff, my joy, my leff,
say what ye wolde;
no thyng my spouse is In þ^s howse
unto my pay;
my son a kyng þ^t made all thyng
lyth in hay.
A my dere son.

my moder dere, a mend yo^r chere,
& now be styll;
thus for to ly it is sothely
my fadirs will.
derision gret passion
Infynytely,
as it is fownde many a wownd
suffyr shall I,
of caluery that is so hye
ther shall I be;
man to restore naylid full sore
uppon a tre.
A my dere son.