Chapter III: An Old-Time Christmas Carol

Sung to the Queen in the Presence at
Whitehall MDXCVI.

I sing of a maiden
That is makeless.[1]
King of all kings
To her son she ches.[2]
He came al so still
There his mother was,
As dew in April
That falleth on the grass.
He came al so still
To his mother's bower,
As dew in April
That falleth on the flower.
He came al so still
There his mother lay,
As dew in April
That falleth on the spray.
Mother and maiden
Was never none but she;
Well may such a lady
God's mother be.

[1] Matchless.

[2] Chose.

Ye End.