_Of a rose, a lovely rose And of a rose I sing a song!_ Hearken to me both old and young, How a rose began to spring, A fairer rose to my liking _Sprung there never in Kinges land._ Six branches are on that rose beme, They be both bright and sheen. The rose is called Mary, heaven queen, _Of her bosom a blossom sprung._ The first branch was of great might, That sprung on Christmas night! The star shone over Bethlehem bright, _That men might see both broad and long._ The second branch was of great honour, It was sent from heaven tower! Blessed be that fair flower, _Break it shall the fiendes bonds!_ The third branch wide spread, There Mary lay in her bed, The bright stream three Kings led _To Bethlem there that branch they found._ The fourth branch sprung into hell, The fiendes boast for to fell, There might no soul therein dwell, _Blessed be that time that branch gan spring!_ The fifth branch was fair in foot, That sprung to heaven, top and root, There to dwell and be our bote, _And yet is seen in priestes hands._ The sixth branch by and by, It is the five joys of mild Mary! Now Christ save all this company, _And send us good life and long!_ _Make me merry both more and less, For now is the time of Christymas!_ Let no man come into this hall, Groom, page, nor yet marshall, But that some sport he bring withal! _For now is the time of Christmas!_ If that he say, he can not sing, Some other sport then let him bring! That it may please at this feasting! _For now is the time of Christmas!_ If he say he can naught do, Then for my love ask him no mo! But to the stocks then let him go! _For now is the time of Christmas!_ _Can I not sing but Hoy! The jolly shepherd made so much joy!_ The shepherd upon a hill he sat, He had on him his tabard and his hat, His tarbox, his pipe, and his flagat, His name was called Jolly, Jolly Wat! For he was a good herds-boy, Ut hoy! For in his pipe he made so much joy. _Can I not sing but hoy._ The shepherd upon a hill was laid, His dog to his girdle was tayd, He had not slept but a little braid But "gloria in excelsis" was to him said Ut hoy! For in his pipe he made so much joy! _Can I not sing, etc._ The shepherd on a hill he stood, Round about him his sheep they yode, He put his hand under his hood, He saw a star as red as blood. Ut hoy! For in his pipe he made so much joy. _Can I not sing, etc._ Now farewell Mall, and also Will, For my love go ye all still, Unto I come again you till, And ever more will ring well thy bell. Ut hoy! For in his pipe he made so much joy! _Can I not sing, etc._