Lullay, my child, and wepe no more

Lullay, my child, and wepe no more,
Slepe and be now still.
The king of bliss thy fader is
As it was his will.

This endris night I saw a sight,
A maid a cradell kepe,
And ever she song and seid among
‘Lullay, my child, and slepe.’

‘I may not slepe, but I may wepe,
I am so wo begone;
Slepe I wold, but I am colde,
And clothés have I none.’

Me thought I hard, the child answard,
And to his moder he said,
‘My moder dere, what do I here,
In cribbe why am I laid?

‘I was borne and laid beforne
Bestés, both ox and asse.
My moder mild, I am thy child,
But he my fader was.

‘Adam’s gilt this man had spilt;
That sin greveth me sore.
Man, for thee here shall I be
Thirty winter and more.

‘Dole it is to see, here shall I be
Hangéd upon the rode,
With baleis to-bete, my woundes to-wete,
And yeve my fleshe to bote.

‘ Here shall I be hanged on a tree,
And die as it is skill.
That I have bought lesse will I nought;
It is my fader’s will.

‘A spere so scharp shall perse my herte,
For dedes that I have done.
Fader of grace, whether thou has
Forgeten thy litell sone?

‘Withouten pety here shall aby,
And make my fleshe all blo.
Adam, iwis, this deth it is
For thee and many mo.’