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Than spake Mary, Goddis mothir dere,
Moche magnifieth my Sowle my Lord,
And so my spirit hath schewed glad cher
In God my helpe with ful acorde.

This graciouse cowpil of foure in fere,
Of Crist Jh͏̃u and Marye milde,
Elizabeth and hir sone dere
Seynt John Baptist, fro schame us schilde.
Amen.

 

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A, MY DERE SON.

A, my dere son, sayd mary, a, my dere,
kys þⁱ moder Jhesu w^t a lawghyng chere.

This endnes nyght I sawe a syght
all in my slepe,
Mary þ^t may she sang lullay
& sore did wepe.
To kepe she sawght full fast a bowte
her son fro colde;
Joseph seyd, wiff, my joy, my leff,

say what ye wolde;