Lully, lullay, Thou little tiny Child
By, by, lully, lullay
O sisters, too, how may we do
For to preserve this day?
This poor Youngling for whom we do sing
By, by, lully, lullay
Herod the King, in his raging
Charged he hath this day
His men of might, in his own sight
All young children to slay
Then woe is me, poor Child, for Thee
And ever mourn and say
For Thy parting, never say nor sing
By, by, lully, lullay