Masters In This Hall lyrics

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 clearl

Holpen are all folk on earth,

Born is God's son so dear:

Nowell! Nowell! Nowell!

Nowell, sing we loudl

God to-day hath poor folk raised

And cast a-down the proud.

Going o'er the hills,

Through the milk-white snow,

Heard I ewes bleat

While the wind did blow

Then to Bethlem town

We went two and two,

And in a sorry place

Heard the oxen low

Therein did we see

A sweet and goodly may

And a fair old man,

Upon the straw she lay

And a little child

On her arm had she,

"Wot ye who this is?"

Said the hinds to me

This is Christ the Lord,

Masters be ye glad!

Christmas is come in,

And no folk should be sad