What child is this, who lay to rest
On Mary's lap is sleeping,
While shepherds watch are keeping?
This, this is Christ the King,
Whom shepherds guard and angels sing,
His face to bring Him laud,
The Babe, the Son of Mary.
Why lies he in such mean estate
Where ox and ass are feeding?
The silent word is pleading.
Oh, may the spear shall pierce
Hail, hail the Word made flesh
to bathe the Son of Mary.
Come, peasant king, to own him.
The king of kings salvation brings,
Let loving hearts enthrone him.
Raise, raise the song on high,
The Virgin sings her lullaby.
Joy, joy, for Christ is born,
The Babe, the Son of Mary.
On the first day of Christmas
a partridge in a pear tree.
On the second day of Christmas
and a partridge in a pear tree.
On the third day of Christmas
Three French hens, two turtle doves,
and a partridge in a pear tree.
On the fourth day of Christmas
and a partridge in a pear tree.
On the fifth day of Christmas
three French hens, two turtle doves,
and a partridge in a pear tree.
On the sixth day of Christmas
three French hens, two turtle doves,
and a partridge in a pear tree.
On the seventh day of Christmas
three French hens, two turtle doves,
and a partridge in a pear tree.
On the eighth day of Christmas
Four calling birds, three French hens,
and a partridge in a pear tree.
On the ninth day of Christmas
Four calling birds, three French hens,
and a partridge in a pear tree.
On the tenth day of Christmas,
and a partridge in a pear tree.
On the eleventh day of Christmas,
Eleven thorns a -leaping,
Four calling birds, three French hens,
and a partridge in a pear tree.
On the twelfth day of Christmas,
Twelve endless living lambs,
seven swords a -swimming,
and a partridge in a pear tree.
The Virgin mild, that blessed bear,