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Angelus ad pastores dicit
Angelus
Joye to god þat sytt in hevyn
And pes to man on erthe grownde
A chylde is born be-nethe þe levyn
thurwe hym many ffolke xul be vn-bownde
Sacramentys þer xul be vij
Wonnyn þurowe þat childys wounde
Therfore I synge A joyful stevene
þe flowre of frenchep now is founde
God þat wonyght on hyȝ
he is gloryed mannys gost to wynne
he hath sent salue to mannys synne
Pes is comyn to mannys kynne
thorwe goddys sleytys slyȝ.

1us pastor
Maunfras maunfras felawe myne
I saw a grett lyght with shene shyne
ȝit saw I nevyr so selkowth syne
Shapyn vpon þe skyes
It is bryghtere þan þe sunne bem
It comyth ryght ouer all þis rem
Evyn above bedleem
I saw it brenne thryes.

ijus pastor
Thu art my brother boosras
I haue beholdyn þe same pas
I trowe it is tokenynge of gras
þat shynynge shewyght be-forn
Balaam spak in prophesye
A lyght xuld shyne vpon þe skye
Whan A sone of a mayd marye
In bedleem were i-born.

iijus pastor
thow I make lyty noyse
I am an herde þat hattyht moyse
I herde carpynge of a croyse
of Moyses in his lawe
Of a mayd a barne born
On a tre he xulde be torn
delyver folkes þat arn forlorn
The chylde xulde be slawe.

1us pastor
Balaam spak in prophecie
out of jacob xuld shyne a skye
many ffolke he xulde bye
with his bryght blood
Be þat bryght blod þat he xulde blede
he xal us brynge fro þe develys drede
as a duke most dowty in dede
thorwe his deth on rode.

ijus pastor
Amos spak with mylde meth
A frute swettere than bawmys breth
His deth xulde slen oure sowlys deth
And drawe us all from helle
Ther fore such lyght goth be-forn
In tokyn þat þe childe is born
Whiche xal saue þat is for-lorn
As prophetys gonne spelle.

iijus pastor
Danyel þe prophete þus gan speke
wyse god from woo us wreke
þi bryght hevyn þou to-breke
and medele þe with a mayde
This prophecye is now spad
Cryst in oure kend is clad
þerfore mankend may be glad
As prophetys be-forn han seyd.
Gloria in excelsis deo cantent.

1us pastor
The prophecye of boosdras is spedly sped
now leyke we hens as þat lyght us lede
myght we se onys þat bryght on bed
oure bale it wolde vnbynde
We xulde shadyr for no shoure
buske we us hens to bedleem boure
to se þat fayr fresch flowre
the mayde mylde in mynde.

ijus pastor
Lete us ffolwe with all oure myght
With songe and myrth we xul us dyght
and wurchep with joye þat wurthy wyght
þat lord is of mankynne
Lete us go fforthe fast on hye
And honowre þat babe wurthylye
tunc pastores cantabunt stella celi extirpauit quo facto ibunt ad querendum christum.
with merthe songe and melodye
haue do þis songe be-gynne.

1us pastor
Ey Ey þis was a wondyr note
þat was now songyn above þe sky
I haue þat voys fful wele I wote
þei songe gle glo glory.

ijus pastor.
Nay so moty the so was it nowth
I haue þat songe fful wele i-nvm
In my wytt weyl it is wrought
It was gle glo glas glum.

iijus pastor
The songe me thought it was glory
and aftyr-warde he seyd us to
þer is a chylde born xal be a prynce myghty
Ffor to seke þat chylde I rede we go.

1us pastor
Heyle floure of flourys fayrest i-fownde
Heyle perle peerles prime rose of prise
heyl blome on bedde we xul be vn-bownde
with þi blody woundys and werkys full wyse
heyl god grettest I grete þe on grownde
þe gredy devyl xal grone grysly as a gryse
whan þou wynnyst þis worlde with þi wyde wounde
and puttyst man to paradys with plenty of prys
to loue þe is my delyte
Heyl floure fayr and fre
Lyght from þe trynyte
Heyl blyssyd mote þou be
heyl mayden fayrest in syght.

ijus pastor
Heyl floure ovyr fflowrys fowndyn in fryght
Heyl Cryst kynde in oure kyth
Heyl werker of wele to wonyn us wyth
Heyl wynnere i-wys
Heyl fformere and ffrende
Heyl ffellere of þe fende
Heyl clad in oure kende
heyl prince of paradys.

iijus pastor
Heyl lord ouer lordys þat lyggyst ful lowe
Heyl kynge ovyr kyngys þi kynrede to knowe
Heyl comely knyth þe deuyl to ouer throwe
Heyl flowre of alle
Heyl werkere to wynne
bodyes bowndyn in synne
Heyl in a bestys bynne
Be-stad in a stalle.

joseph
Herdys on hylle
beth not stylle
but seyth ȝour wylle
to many A man
How god is born
þis mery morn
þat is for-lorn
fyndyn he can.

1us pastor
We xull telle
be dale and hylle
How harwere of helle
was born þis nyght
myrthis to melle
and fendys to quelle
þat were so felle
Aȝens his ryght.

ijus pastor
Ffare wel babe and barne of blys
Ffare wel lord þat lovely is
þe to wurchep þi feet I kys
on knes to þe I falle
The to wurchepe I falle on kne
all þis werd may joye of þe
now fare wel lorde of grett pouste
ȝa fare wel kynge of alle.

iijus pastor
Thow I be þe last þat take my leve
ȝit fayre mullynge take it nat at no greve
now fayre babe wele mut þou cheve
Ffayr chylde now haue good day
Ffare weyl myn owyn dere derlyng
I-wys þou art a ryght fayr thyng
Ffare wel my lorde and my swetyng
Ffare wel born in pore Aray.

Maria
Now ȝe herd-men wel mote ȝe be
Ffor ȝoure omage and ȝour syngynge
my sone xal a-qwyte ȝow in hefne se
and ȝeue ȝow all ryght good hendynge.