Drink now the strong beer,
Cut the white loaf here.
The while the meat is shredding
For the rare minced pie,
And the plums stand by
To fill the paste that's a-kneading."
"Ah, well-a-day, Master Jones, it is dull cheer to sing Christmas songs
here in the woods, with only the owls and the bears for choristers. I
wish I could hear the bells of merry England once more."
And down in the cabin Rose Standish was hushing little Peregrine, the
first American-born baby, with a Christmas lullaby:
"This winter's night
I saw a sight--
A star as bright as day;
And ever among
A maiden sung,
Lullay, by-by, lullay!
"This lovely laydie sat and sung,
And to her child she said,
My son, my brother, and my father dear,
Why lyest thou thus in hayd?
My sweet bird,
Tho' it betide
Thou be not king veray;
But nevertheless
I will not cease
To sing, by-by, lullay!
"The child then spake in his talking,
And to his mother he said,
It happeneth, mother, I am a king,
In crib though I be laid,
For angels bright
Did down alight,
Thou knowest it is no nay;
And of that sight
Thou may'st be light
To sing, by-by, lullay!
"Now, sweet son, since thou art a king,
Why art thou laid in stall?
Why not ordain thy bedding
In some great king his hall?
We thinketh 'tis right
That king or knight
Should be in good array;
And them among,
It were no wrong
To sing, by-by, lullay!
"Mary, mother, I am thy child,
Tho' I be laid in stall;
Lords and dukes shall worship me,
And so shall kinges all.
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