Classic Poem

A lovely lady sat and sange
And to her son thus gan she say:
‘My son, my lord, my dere derlyng,
Why liggis thou thus in hay?
Myn own dere son,
How art thou cum,
Art thou not God verey?
But neuer the lesse
I will not sese
To syng “by, by, lully, lulley.” ’

Than spake the child that was so yong
And thus me thowght he said:
‘I am knowen as hevyn kyng,
In cribbe thowgh I now be layd;
Thow knowest it is no nay.
Angellis bright
To me shall light;
And of that sight
Ye may be light,
And syng “by, by, lully, lulley.” ’

‘Jhesu, my son, hevyn kyng,
Why lyest thou thus in stall?
And why hast thou no riche beddyng
In sum ryche kyngis hall?
Me thynkith by right,
The lord of myght
Shuld lye in riche aray;
But neuer the lesse
I will not sese
To synge “by, by, lully, lulley.” ’

‘Mary moder, quene of blis,
Me thynkith it is no lawe
That I shuld go to the kyngis,
And they not to me drawe;
But you shall see
That kyngis thre
To me will cum on the Twelfth day;
For this beheste,
Geve me your brest,
And syng “by, by, lully, lulley.” ’

‘Jhesu, my son, I pray the, say,
As thou art to me dere:
How shall I serue the to thy pay,
And mak the right good chere?
All thy will
I wold fulfill,
Thou knoweste it well, in fay;
Both rokke the still
And daunce the ther-till,
And synge “by, by, lully, lulley.” ’

‘Mary, moder, I pray the,
Take me vp on loft,
And in thyn arme
Thow lappe me warm,
And daunce me now full ofte;
And yf I wepe,
And will not slepe,
Than syng “by, by, lully, lulley.” ’

‘Jhesu, my son, hevyn kyng,
Yf it be thy will,
Grant thow me myn askyng,
As reason wold, and skyll:
What so euer they be
That can and will be
Mery on this day,
To blis them brynge,
And I shall syng:
“Lulley, by, by, lully, lulley.” ’