Nowell, I thank it a maiden every del.
The first day when Christ was born
There sprung a rose out of a thorn
To save mankind that was forlorn.
I thank it a maiden every del.

In that oxstall the child was found
In poor clothing that child was wound.
He suffered many a deadly wound.
I thank it a maiden every del.

A garland of thorns on his head was set,
A sharp spear to his heart was met;
The people seiden “Take thee that.”
I thank it a maiden every del.

To that pillar he was bounden
To his heart a spear was stungen
For us he suffered a deadly wounden.
I thank it a maiden every del.