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I Sing of a Maiden
I sing of a maiden
That is makeles;
King of all kings
To her son she ches.
He came al so still
There his mother was,
As dew in April
That falleth on the grass.
He came al so still
To his mother’s bour
As dew in April
That falleth on the flour
He came al so still
There his mother lay,
As dew in April
That falleth on the spray.
Mother and maiden
Was never none but she;
Well may such a lady
Goddes mother be.
Anonymous 15th century
Make We Merry
Make we merry, both more and less,
For now is the time of Christmas.
Let no man come into this hall,
Nor groom, nor page, nor yet marshall,
But that some sport he bring withal.
If that he say he cannot sing,
Some other sport then let him bring,
That it may please at this feasting.
If he say he naught can do,
Then, for my love, tell him no
But to the stocks then let him go.
Make we merry, both more and less,
For now is the time of Christmas.
Anonymous
Open House
Queen Ivy and King Holly
Wait at the door to enter
Lord of the dark hills, the fir tree
Reigns in the Garden Centre
And the changeling Mistletoe
Come into the house
Whoever you are.
Dangerous padded parcels
A red man’s chancy load,
With riddled cores of crackers
Watch for their hour to explode
And the changeling Mistletoe
Come into the house
Whoever you are.
Black heart of the pudding,
Stuffed heart of the bird,
Green hearts of the brussels sprouts
Signal the holy word
Of ancestral Mistletoe
Come into this house
Whoever you a are
Anonymous
Christmas Presents
Every year Grandma gets a tin of talcum powder.
She always says, ‘Ah my favourite!’
Even before she opens the wrapping
Grandpa always says, ‘Well, I know what’s in here.
Its two pairs of socks. Just what I wanted!’
This year, Aunti Vi had an umbrella in an umbrella-shaped parcel,
I mean, it looked just like an umbrella.
And, before Aunti Vi pulled the paper off,
She said to Mum, ‘It will match that new coat of mine.’
As for Mum and Dad, they just sat there and said,
'We’ve given each other a joint present this year
It’s a digital clock radio for our bedroom.’
Do you know, they didn’t even bother to wrap it up and put it under the tree!
At the end, when everything had been given out,
Mum said, ‘We mustn’t forget the gift-vouchers from Debbie and Jim.
We sent them a cheque for the same amount.
We always do.’
I call that a bit unimaginative, don’t you?
Maybe, when you come to think about it,
Grown-ups need Father Christmas far more than children do.
Anonymous
Santa Claus
He comes in the night! He comes in the night!
He softly, silently comes,
While the little brown heads on the pillows so white
Are dreaming of bugles and drums.
He cuts thro' the snow like a ship thro' the foam,
While the white flakes 'round him whirl.
Who tells him I know not, but he findeth the home
Of each good little boy and girl.
His sleigh it is long, and deep, and wide;
It will carry a host of things,
While dozens of drums hang over the side,
With the sticks sticking under the strings.
And yet not the sound of a drum is heard,
Not a bugle blast is blown,
As he mounts to the chimney-top like a bird,
And drops to the hearth like stone.
The little red stockings he silently fills,
Till the stockings will hold no more;
The bright little sleds for the great snow hills
Are quickly set down on the floor.
Then Santa Claus mounts to the roof like a bird,
And glides to his seat in the sleigh;
Not the sound of a bugle or drum is heard
As he noiselessly gallops away.
Anonymous 1880
Anonymous
Though He be Lord of all,
The Christ Child is but very small.
Kneel then, and at His cradle lay,
Most gentle love this Christmas Day.
Anonymous, 14th Century
I Sing of a Maiden
I sing of a maiden
That is makeles;
King of all kings
To her son she ches.
He came al so still
There his mother was,
As dew in April
That falleth on the grass.
He came al so still
To his mother’s bour
As dew in April
That falleth on the flour
He came al so still
There his mother lay,
As dew in April
That falleth on the spray.
Mother and maiden
Was never none but she;
Well may such a lady
Goddes mother be.
Anonymous 15th century
Make We Merry
Make we merry, both more and less,
For now is the time of Christmas.
Let no man come into this hall,
Nor groom, nor page, nor yet marshall,
But that some sport he bring withal.
If that he say he cannot sing,
Some other sport then let him bring,
That it may please at this feasting.
If he say he naught can do,
Then, for my love, tell him no
But to the stocks then let him go.
Make we merry, both more and less,
For now is the time of Christmas.
Anonymous
Open House
Queen Ivy and King Holly
Wait at the door to enter
Lord of the dark hills, the fir tree
Reigns in the Garden Centre
And the changeling Mistletoe
Come into the house
Whoever you are.
Dangerous padded parcels
A red man’s chancy load,
With riddled cores of crackers
Watch for their hour to explode
And the changeling Mistletoe
Come into the house
Whoever you are.
Black heart of the pudding,
Stuffed heart of the bird,
Green hearts of the brussels sprouts
Signal the holy word
Of ancestral Mistletoe
Come into this house
Whoever you a are
Anonymous
Christmas Presents
Every year Grandma gets a tin of talcum powder.
She always says, ‘Ah my favourite!’
Even before she opens the wrapping
Grandpa always says, ‘Well, I know what’s in here.
Its two pairs of socks. Just what I wanted!’
This year, Aunti Vi had an umbrella in an umbrella-shaped parcel,
I mean, it looked just like an umbrella.
And, before Aunti Vi pulled the paper off,
She said to Mum, ‘It will match that new coat of mine.’
As for Mum and Dad, they just sat there and said,
'We’ve given each other a joint present this year
It’s a digital clock radio for our bedroom.’
Do you know, they didn’t even bother to wrap it up and put it under the tree!
At the end, when everything had been given out,
Mum said, ‘We mustn’t forget the gift-vouchers from Debbie and Jim.
We sent them a cheque for the same amount.
We always do.’
I call that a bit unimaginative, don’t you?
Maybe, when you come to think about it,
Grown-ups need Father Christmas far more than children do.
Anonymous
Santa Claus
He comes in the night! He comes in the night!
He softly, silently comes,
While the little brown heads on the pillows so white
Are dreaming of bugles and drums.
He cuts thro' the snow like a ship thro' the foam,
While the white flakes 'round him whirl.
Who tells him I know not, but he findeth the home
Of each good little boy and girl.
His sleigh it is long, and deep, and wide;
It will carry a host of things,
While dozens of drums hang over the side,
With the sticks sticking under the strings.
And yet not the sound of a drum is heard,
Not a bugle blast is blown,
As he mounts to the chimney-top like a bird,
And drops to the hearth like stone.
The little red stockings he silently fills,
Till the stockings will hold no more;
The bright little sleds for the great snow hills
Are quickly set down on the floor.
Then Santa Claus mounts to the roof like a bird,
And glides to his seat in the sleigh;
Not the sound of a bugle or drum is heard
As he noiselessly gallops away.
Anonymous 1880
Anonymous
Though He be Lord of all,
The Christ Child is but very small.
Kneel then, and at His cradle lay,
Most gentle love this Christmas Day.
Anonymous, 14th Century
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