English Folk-Carols/The Bitter Withy

by Anonymous

II.THE BITTER WITHY.

THE BITTER WITHY.

1As it fell out on a bright holiday,
Small hail from the sky did fall;
Our Saviour asked His mother dear
If he may go and play at ball.

2At ball! at ball! my own dear Son!
It is time that you were gone;
And don't let me hear of any doings
At night when you come home.

3So up Lincull and down Lincull
Our sweetest Saviour ran,
And there He met three rich young lords:
Good morning! to you all.

4Good morn! good morn! good morn! said they:
Good morning! then said He,
O which of you three rich young men
Will play at ball with me?

5We are all lords' and ladies' sons,
Born in our bower and hall;
And Thou art nothing but a poor maid's child,
Born in an ox's stall.

6If you're all lords' and ladies' sons,
Born in your bower and hall,
I will make you believe in your latter end;
I'm an angel above you all.

7So He made Him a bridge with the beams of the sun,
And o'er the water crossed He.
These rich young lords followed after Him,
And drowned they were all three.

8Then up Lincull and down Lincull
These young lords' mothers ran,
Saying: Mary mild, fetch home your child,
For ours He has drowned all.

9So Mary mild fetched home her child
And laid Him across her knee;
With a handful of green withy twigs
She gave Him slashes three.

10O withy! O withy! O bitter withy!
Thou hast caused Me to smart;
And the withy shall be the very first tree
That shall perish at the heart!