About the field they pipëd right,
So merrily the shepherds began to blow
Adown from heaven that is so high
Tyrle, tyrlow, tyrle, tyrlow!
Of angels there came a company,
With merry songs and melody.
The shepherds anon gan them aspy.
Tyrle, tyrlow, tyrle, tyrlow!
Gloria in excelcis, the angels sang,
And said that peace was present among,
To evry man that to the faith would fong.
Tyrle, tyrlow, tyrle, tyrlow!
The sheþherds hied them to Bedlem,
To see that blessed sun His beam
And there they found that glorious leme.
Tyrle, tyrlow, tyrle, tyrlow!
Now pray we to that mekë Child,
And to His mother that is so mild,
The which was never defiled,
Tyrle, tyrlow, tyrle, tyrlow!
That we may come unto His bliss,
Where joy shall never miss,
Then may we sing in Paradise:
Tyrle, tyrlow, tyrle, tyrlow!
I pray you all that be here,
For to sing and make good cheer,
In the worship of God this year.
Tyrle, tyrlow, tyrle, tyrlow!