Classic Poem

‘M ARY modyr, cum and se:
Thi Son is naylyd on a tre.

‘His body is wappyd all in wo,
Hand and fot; he may not go;
Thi Son, lady, that thou louyst soo,
Nakyd is naylyd vpon a tre.

‘The blyssyd body that thou hast born
To saue mankynd, that was forlorn,
His body, lady, is al to-torn,
His hed with thornys, as ye may se.’

Wan Johan this tal began to tell,
Mary wyld not lenger dwell
Tyl sche cam to that hyll
Ther sche myht her owyn Son see.

‘My swet Son, thou art me der;
Qwy haue men hang the her?
Thi hed is closyd wyth a brer;
Qwy haue men soo doo to the?’

‘Johan, this woman I the betake;
Kep this woman for my sake;
On the rod I hyng for mannys sake,
For synful man, as thou may se.

‘This game and loue me must pley
For synfull sowlis that ar to dey;
Ther ys no man that gothe be the wey
That on my peynis wyl lok and se.

‘Fadyr, my sowle I the betake;
My body deth for mannys sake;
To hel I go withowtyn wake,
Mannys sole to make fre.’

Prey we al to that blyssyd Son
That he vs help wan we not mon,
And bryng us to blys that is abone.
Amen, amen, amen, for charite.