The World Turns To Ice

Saturday, 23 April 2011

Good Friday

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)

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