Classic Poem

‘O my hart is wo!’, Mary she said so,
‘For to see my dere Son dy, and sones have I no mo.’

‘When that my swete Son was thirty winter old,
Then the traitor Judas wexed very bold:
For thirty plates of money his master he had sold.
But when I it wiste, Lord, my hart was cold!

‘Upon Shere Thursday then truly it was
On my Sones deth that Judas did compàss.
Many were the fals Jewes that folowed him by trace;
And there before them all he kissed my Sones face.

‘My Son before Pilat brought was He,
And Peter said three times he knew Him not, pardee.
Pilat said unto the Jewes: “What say ye?”
Then they cryed with one vois: “ Crucifige! ”

‘On Good Friday, at the mount of Calvary,
My Son was don on the crosse, nailed with nailes three.
Of all the frendes that He had, never one could He see
But jentil John the Evangelist, that still stood Him by.

‘Though I were sorowfull, no man have at it wonder;
For huge was the erth-quak, horible was the thonder.
I loked on my swete Son on the cross that I stood under;
Then came Longeus with a spere and cleft His hart in sonder.’