Lully, lulley: lully lulley
The fawcon hath born my mak away.
He bare hym up, he bare hym down;
He bare hym into an orchard brown.
In that orchard there was an hall,
That was hangrid with pu rpill and pall.
And in that hall there was a bede;
Hit was hangid with gold so rede.
And yn that bed ther lythe a knight,
His wowndes bledyng day and nyght.
By that bedes side ther kneleth a may,
And she wepeth both nyght and day.
And by that beddes side ther stondeth a ston,
'Corpus Christi' wretyn thereon.
Good Friday comes this Month, the old woman runs
With one or two a Penny, hot cross Bunns,
Whose Virtue is, if you believe what's said,
They'll not grow mouldy like the common bread.
Poor Robin (1733)