Lullaby, my sweet little baby

Lulla, lullaby, lullaby,

My sweet little baby:

What meanest thou to cry,

Lulla, lullaby, lullaby,

My sweet little baby.

Be still my blessed babe,

Though cause thou hast to mourn,

Whose blood most innocent to shed,

The cruel king has sworn:

And lo, alas, behold

What slaughter he doth make,

Shedding the blood of infants all,

Sweet saviour for thy sake.

A king is born, they say:

Which king this king would kill:

O woe, and woeful heavy day,

When wretches have their will.

Lulla, lullaby, lullaby,

My sweet little baby;

What meanest thou to cry,

Lulla, lullaby, lullaby,

My sweet little baby.