Anonymous (Scottish)

Text:

All sons of Adam rise up with me

go love the blessed Trinitie.

Sing we nowell, nowell, nowell,

cry Kyrie with hosanna, sing Sabaoth,

sing alleluja, now save us all Emanuel.

Then spak archangel Gabriel,

said Ave Mary mild, the Lord is with thee,

now shall thou go with child.

Ecce ancilla Domini.

Then said the Virgin young:

As thou has said so mot it be.

Welcome be heavin’s king.

Ther cam a ship fair sailand then,

Sanct Michael was the steiresman,

Sanct John sat in the horn.

Our Lord harpit, our Lady sang

and all the bells of heav’n they rang

on Christsonday at morn.

Then sang the angels all and sum:

Lauda Jerusalem, Dominum,

lauda Deum tuum Sion.

The sons of Adam answered them:

sing glore be to thee God and man,

the Father and the Sprit also,

with honor and perpetual jo.

Text:

I come from hevin heich to tell

The best nowells that e’er befell,

To you thir tythings trew I bring

And will I of them say and sing.

This day to you is born ane child

Of Marie meik and Virgin mild.

That blissit bairn bening and kind,

Sall you rejoyce baith hart and mind.

Lat us rejoyis and be blyth

And with the Hyrdis go full swyth

And see what God of His grace hes done

Throu Christ to bring us to His throne.

My saull and life stand up and see

Wha lyis in ane cribbe of tree.

What babe is that, sa gude and fair

It is Christ, God’s Son and Air.

O my deir hart, yung Jesus sweit

Prepair Thy creddill in my spreit!

And I sall rock Thee in my hart

And never mair fra Thee depart.

Bot I sall praise Thee evermoir

With sanges sweit unto Thy gloir,

The kneis of my hart sall I bow

And sing that rycht Balulalow.

Text:

1. Joy to the person of my love

Altho she me disdain.

Fixt are my thoghts and may not move

And yet I love in vain.

Shall I lose the sight

of my joy and heart’s delight

Or shall I leave my sute?

Shall I strive to touch?

Oh, no, it were too much:

She is forbidden fruit.

Oh, woe is me, that ever i did see

The beauty that did me bewitch.

Yet, out a-lace! I must forgo that face

The treasour I esteem’d so much.

4. A thousand good fortuns fal to her share

Although she hath rejected me

And fill’d my sad heart full of dispaire

Yet ever shall I constant be,

For she is the Dame

my tongue shall ever name

Fair branch of modestie,

Choise of heart and mind,

oh, were she half so kind

Then would she pitie me.

Sweet, turn at last, be kind as thou art chast

And let me in thy bosom dwell.

So shall we gain the pleasur of love’s pain.

Till then, my deirest deir, farewell.