The Holy Well

As it fell out on a holiday,
A high holiday so high,
Sweet Jesus he asked his own mother dear
Whether he should go and play.

" To play, to play, my own dear son,
It's time that you are gone,
And don't let me hear no complaints of you
At night when you do come home.

" You'll go back to the merry little town
As far as the holy well,
And there you'll see as fine children
That as every tongue can tell."

" They say they were lords' and ladies' sons,
The meanest among them all,
While I was nothing but a mild Mary's child
Born down in an oxen stall."

" If you were nothing but a mild Mary's child
Born down in an oxen stall,
You shall be the ruler, the King of Heaven,
And ruler amongst them all."

Sweet Jesus he turned himself right round,
Never a laugh nor a smile,
But the tears they falled from sweet Jesus' eyes
Like the water from the sky.

" Oh no, dear mother, such a thing shall never be,
And that you know full well,
There is too many a poor sinful souls
Crying out for the help of me.

" Oh hell is dark and hell it is dim
And hell is full of woe,
God grant it to any poor sinful souls
That is passed from sweet Jesus Christ."
Translation: 
Language: 
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.