To read about F's and my London trip, start here and click "newer post" to continue the story.

Sunday, December 07, 2008

Second Sunday of Advent



Owt of your slepe aryse and wake,
For God mankynd nowe hath ytake,
Al of a maide without eny make;
Of al women she bereth the belle.
Nowell, Nowell, Nowell,
Nowell, Nowell, Nowell.

And thirwe a maide faire and wys,
Now man is made of ful grete pris;
Now angelys knelen to mannys servys,
And at this tyme al this byfel.
Nowell, Nowell, Nowell,
Nowell, Nowell, Nowell.

Now man is bryghter than the sonne;
Now man in heven an hye shal wone;
Blssyd be God this game is begonne,
And his moder empresse of helle.
Nowell, Nowell, Nowell,
Nowell, Nowell, Nowell.

That ever was thralle, now ys he fre;
That ever was smalle, now grete is she;
Now shal God deme bothe the and me
Unto his blysse yf we do wel.
Nowell, Nowell, Nowell,
Nowell, Nowell, Nowell.

Now man may to heven wende;
Now heven and erthe to hym they bende;
He that was foo now is oure frende;
This is no nay that Y yowe telle.
Nowell, Nowell, Nowell,
Nowell, Nowell, Nowell.

Now blessyd brother, graunte us grace
At domesday to se thy face.
And in thy courte to have a place,
That we mow there synge 'Nowel'.
Nowell, Nowell, Nowell,
Nowell, Nowell, Nowell.

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