Arr. Ralph Hunter
on Mary’s lap is sleeping?
Whom angels greet with anthems sweet,
while shepherds watch are keeping?
This, this is Christ the King,
whom shepherds guard and angels sing;
Haste, haste to bring Him laud,
the Babe, the Son of Mary.
So bring Him incense, gold, and myrrh,
come peasant, king to own Him;
The King of Kings salvation brings,
let loving hearts enthrone Him.
This, this is Christ the King
whom shepherds guard and angels sing;
Haste, haste to bring Him laud,
the Babe, the Son of Mary.
Bring a torch, Jeanette Isabella;
Bring a torch, to the cradle run.
This is Jesus, good folk of the village;
Christ is born and Mary calls you,
Ah! Ah! beautiful is the mother!
Ah! Ah! lovely is her Son.
Softly to the little stable,
softly for a moment come;
Look and see the blessed Jesus,
How warm is He, His cheeks are rosy,
Ah! Ah! beautiful is the mother!
Ah! Ah! lovely is her son.
When rose the eastern star,
the birds came from afar
in that night full of glory,
With one melodious voice
they sweetly did rejoice,
and sang the wondrous story.
Sang praising God on high
enthroned above the sky,
and His fair mother Mary.
The eagle left his lair,
came winging through the air,
his message bud arising.
And to his joyous cry
the sparrow made reply,
his answer sweetly voicing.
“O’ercome are death and strife,
this night is born new life,”
the robin sang rejoicing.
Patapan, patapan
Willie bring your little drum, with your flute,
O Robin, come, at the sound of fife and drum,
Turelurelu, patapatapan,
At the sound of fife and drum,
Happy Christmas now has come.
than fife and drum, at the sound of fife and drum,
Turelurelu, patapatapan,
At the sound of fife and drum,
sing and dance for joy has come.
So the men of former days
to the King of Kings gave praise,
at the sound of fife and drum,
Turelurelu, patapatapan
at the sound of fife and drum,
Happy Christmas now has come.
I wonder as I wander, out under the sky,
how Jesus, the Savior did come for to die
for poor on’ry people like you and like I.
I wonder as I wander, out under the sky.
When Mary birthed Jesus, ’twas in a cow stall,
with wise men and farmers and shepherds and all,
But high from God’s Heaven a star’s light did fall,
and the promise of ages, it then did recall.
If Jesus had wanted for any wee thing,
a star in the sky, or a bird on the wing.
or all of God’s angels in heav’n for to sing
He surely could have had it, ’cause He was the King!
The first Nowell the Angel did say
was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay;
in fields where they lay keeping their sheep,
on a cold winter’s night that was so deep.
Nowell, nowell,
Born is the King of Israel.
They looked up and saw a star
shining in the east beyond them far;
And to the earth it gave great light
and so it continued both day and night.
Nowell, nowell,
Born is the King of Israel.
This star drew nigh to the Northwest,
O’er Bethlehem it took its rest,
And there it did both stop and stay,
Right over the place where Jesus lay.
Nowell, nowell,
Born is the King of Israel.
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