English Folk-Carols/The Bitter Withy

by anon

II.⁠THE BITTER WITHY.

THE BITTER WITHY.

1⁠As it fell out on a bright holiday,
Small hail from the sky did fall;
Our Saviour asked His mother dear
If he may go and play at ball.

2⁠At ball! at ball! my own dear Son!
It is time that you were gone;
And don't let me hear of any doings
At night when you come home.

3⁠So up Lincull and down Lincull
Our sweetest Saviour ran,
And there He met three rich young lords:
Good morning! to you all.

4⁠Good morn! good morn! good morn! said they:
Good morning! then said He,
O which of you three rich young men
Will play at ball with me?

5⁠We are all lords' and ladies' sons,
Born in our bower and hall;
And Thou art nothing but a poor maid's child,
Born in an ox's stall.

6⁠If you're all lords' and ladies' sons,
Born in your bower and hall,
I will make you believe in your latter end;
I'm an angel above you all.

7⁠So He made Him a bridge with the beams of the sun,
And o'er the water crossed He.
These rich young lords followed after Him,
And drowned they were all three.

8⁠Then up Lincull and down Lincull
These young lords' mothers ran,
Saying: Mary mild, fetch home your child,
For ours He has drowned all.

9⁠So Mary mild fetched home her child
And laid Him across her knee;
With a handful of green withy twigs
She gave Him slashes three.

10⁠O withy! O withy! O bitter withy!
Thou hast caused Me to smart;
And the withy shall be the very first tree
That shall perish at the heart!