Mary Moder, Cum And Se Lyrics

Nowel el el el el el el el el el el el el el el el

Mary moder, cum and se,
Thi sone is naylyd on a tre,
Hand and fot he may not ge,
His body is woundyn al in woo.

Thi swete sone, That thou hast born,
To save mankynde that was for-lorn,
His hed is wrethin in a thorn,
His blysful body is al to-torn.

Quan he this tale be-gan to telle,
Mary wold non longer dwelle,
But hyid here faste to that hylle,
Ther Jhesu his blod be-gan to spylle.

Myn swete sone, that art me dere,
Qwy han men hangyd the here?
Thi hed is wrethin in a brere;
Myn lovely son, qwer is thi chere?

Thin swete body, that in me rest,
Thin comely mowth, that I hve kest,
Now on rode is mad thi nest,
Leve chyld, quat is me best?

Woman, to Jon I the betake!
Jon kyp this woman for myn sake,
For synful sowlys my deth I take,
On rode I hange for manys sake.

This game alone me muste play,
For synful sowle I deye to dey,
Ther is no wyot that goth be the way,
Of myn peynys can wel say.