Lulla, la lulla, lullla lullaby
My sweet little Baby, what meanest Thou to cry?

Be still, my blessed Babe, though cause
Thou hast to mourn
Whose blood most innocent to shed the
Cruel king has sworn
And lo, alas! behold what slaughter he doth make
Shedding the blood of infants all, sweet
Saviour, for Thy sake
A King, a King is born, they say, which
King this king would kill
O woe and woeful heavy day when
Wretches have their will!

Lulla, la lulla, lullla lullaby
My sweet little Baby, what meanest Thou to cry?

Three kings this King of kings to see
Are come from far
To each unknown, with offerings great
By guiding of a star
And shepherds heard the song which
Angels bright did sing
Giving all glory unto God for coming of this King
Which must be made away king
Herod would Him kill
O woe and woeful heavy day
When wretches have their will

Lulla, la lulla, lullla lullaby
My sweet little Baby, what meanest Thou to cry?

Lo, lo, my little Babe, be still, lament no more
From fury Thou shalt step aside
Help have we still in store
We heavenly warning have some other soil to seek
From death must fly the Lord of life
As lamb both mild and meek
Thus must my Babe obey the
King that would Him kill
O woe, and woeful heavy day
When wretches have their will

Lulla, la lulla, lullla lullaby
My sweet little Baby, what meanest Thou to cry?

But thou shalt live and reign
As sibyls hath foresaid
As all the prophets prophesy
Whose mother, yet a maid
And perfect virgin pure
With her breasts shall upbread
Both God and man that all hath made
The Son of heavenly seed
Whom caitiffs one can 'tray
Whom tyrants none can kill
O joy, and joyful happy day
When wretches want their will