Jesu, swete sone dere,
On porful bed list thou here,
And that me greveth sore;
For thy cradel is as a bere,
Oxe and asse beeth thy fere:
Weepe ich may therfore.

Jesu, swete, be not wroth,
Though ich n'abbe clout ne cloth
Thee on for to folde,
Thee on to folde ne to wrappe,
For ich n'abbe clout ne lappe;
But lay thou thy feet to my pappe,
And wite thee from the colde.