Classic Poem

Ay, ay, this is the day
That we shal worship ever and ay.

A ferly thing it is to mene
That a maid a child have borne
And sithe was a maiden clene,
As prophetes saiden here-beforne.
Y-wis, it was a wonder thing
That through an aungeles greting
God wold light in a maiden ying,
With ay,
Ay, ay, I dare well say
Her maidenhed yede no away.

His moder was a maiden mild,
As Holy Kirk witness and we;
Withouten wem she bar a child,
And so did never non but she.
A ferly thing it shuld befall,
But God hath alle women thrall
In paines to bere her children all,
With ay,
Ay, ay, I dare well say
She felt none of that aray.

His birth was know that ilke night
In all the land thorough and thorough;
Thider they yeden to see that sight,
To Bethleëm, that faire borough.
Ad angel bad that they shuld go;
He said that ‘Betwene beestes two
Godes Sone siker ye find so’,
With ay,
Ay, ay, I dare well say,
In a crib they found Him there He lay.

Three kinges out of Inde land,
They cum to seke that ferly fode
With rich presèntes in their hand;
A sterre stifly a-fore hem yode.
A ferly thing it was to see:
That sterre was more than other three;
It held the course to that contree,
With ay,
Ay, ay, I dare well say,
They thar not miss of redy way.

When they with that lady met,
They found her child upon her knee;
Full curtesly they her gret
And prèsent Him with yiftes three.
As King they yave Him gold so rede,
Myrr and cense to His manhede;
Of her offring thus we rede,
With ay,
Ay, ay, I dare well say,
They worshipped Him on the twelfthe day.

Mary moder, maiden mild,
To thee we cry, to thee we call.
Thou be our sucour and our shild;
Us thou save fro mischeves all!
Thou pray thy Sone, that Prince of Pees,
Of all our sinnes He us relees,
Out of this world when we shal cees,
With ay,
Ay, ay, so that we may
Wend with Him at domesday.