Classic Poem

Make we mirth
For Christes birth,
And sing we Yole till Candlemess.

The first day of Yole have we in mind
How God was man born of our kind,
For he the bondes wold unbind
Of all our sinnes and wickedness.

The second day we sing of Stephen,
That stoned was and steyed up even
To God that he saw stond in Heven,
And crowned was for his prowess.

The third day longeth to Sent John,
That was Christes darling, derer non:
Whom he betok, whan he shuld gon,
His moder der for her clenness.

The fourth day of the children yong,
That Herowd to deth had do with wrong.
And Christ they coud non tell with tong,
But with their blod bar him witness.

The fifth day longeth to Sent Thomas,
That as a strong piller of bras
Held up the Chirch and slain he was,
For he stod with rightwesness.

The eighth day tok Jesu his name,
That saved mankind fro sin and shame,
And circumcised was for no blame
But for ensample of mekness.

The twelfth day offered to him kinges three
Gold, myrrh and cence, thes giftes free:
For God and man and King was he,
Thus worshipped they his worthiness.

On the fourtieth day cam Mary mild
Unto the temple with her child
To shew her clen that never was filed,
And therwith endeth Christmes.