Masters in this Hall, hear ye news to-day
Brought from over sea – and ever I you pray;
Chorus:
Nowell, Nowell, Nowell! Nowell, sing we clear
Holpen are all folk on earth, born is God’s son so dear:
Nowell, Nowell, Nowell! Nowell, sing we loud
God to-day hath poor folk raised, and cast a-down the proud . . .
Going o’er the hills, through the milk-white snow
Heard the ewes bleat while the wind did blow
Chorus
Then to Bethlem town we went two by two,
And in a sorry place, heard the oxen low
Chorus
Therein did we see a sweet and goodly maid
And a fair old man; upon the straw she lay
Chorus
This is Christ the Lord — Masters be ye glad!
Christmas is come in, and no folk should be sad
Caspar David Friedrich: Monastery Ruins in the Snow (1818)
CONNECT/HOOK 