FAIR SHEPHERD

THE Ox said to the Ass, said he, all on a Christmas night: "Do you hear the pipe of the shepherds a-whistling over the hill? That is the angels' music they play for their delight, 'Glory to God in the highest and peace upon earth, goodwill' . . . Nowell, nowell, my masters, God lieth low in stall, And the poor, labouring Ox was here before you all."

The Ass said to the Ox, said he, all on a Christmas day: "Do you hear the golden bridles come clinking out of the east? Those are the three wise Mages that ride from far away To Bethlehem in Jewry to have their lore increased . . . Nowell, nowell, my masters, God lieth low in stall, And the poor, foolish Ass was here before you all."

FAIR Shepherd must weep
He has lost His sheep
And cannot tell where to find them;
Far from their home
They wander alone
And never will look behind them.

He lay by night
In His chamber bright
And dreamed He saw them dying,
And when He awoke
His heart it was broke,
For He heard them still a-crying.

Then up He took
His staff and crook,
Determined for to find them;
He found them indeed
But they gave Him no heed
And cast His words behind them.

He was haled away
On a Good Friday
To Calvary Hill hard by,
Mocked and denied,
Struck through the side
And hung on a Tree to die.