Classic Poem

Good Saint Mary fumbled deep,
With a saintly gesture.
In this bag (said she) I keep
All the Infant's vesture
Ah Lord! how great is my reward.
My soul doth magnify the Lord.

These be sundry knitted shoes,
Purple, white and ruddy,
Such as infant princes use,
Not for everybody.
My Baby must be nobly shod.
My spirit hath rejoiced in God.

Here be pairs of little gloves,
For His hands' protection,
Which are like to new-born doves
By their soft complexion.
Poets His glory shall relate.
He hath regarded my estate.

Here be little cambric shirts,
Very small and slender.
Here the band His body girts,
Which is frail and tender.
So carefully must He be dressed.
Henceforth all nations call me blest.

This His woollen undercoat
This a linen jacket;
I myself did cut and sew't;
Good Saint Anne did tack it.
For He that is exceeding great
Doth succour me both soon and late.

Here be hoods and here be caps,
Quite a brave collection.
One day He may be, perhaps,
Crowned with great perfection.
For He in Whose hand all things be
Hath marvellously done with me.

Here be cloaks of purple rare,
Made in divers fashions;
Two for ordinary wear,
One for great occasions.
To God I dedicate the same,
And Holy, Holy is His name.