The Cherry Tree Carol

Joseph was an old man

An old man was he;

He mar­ried sweet Ma­ry

The queen of Ga­li­lee.

As they want a-walk­ing

In the gar­den so gay;

Maid Ma­ry spied cher­ries

Hanging ov­er yon tree.

Mary said to Jo­seph

With her sweet lips so mild

Pluck those cher­ries

Jo­seph

For to give to my child.

O then

re­pli­èd Jo­seph

With words so un­kind

I will pluck no cher­ries

For to give to thy child.

Mary said to cher­ry tree

Bow down to my knee

That I may pluck cher­ries

By one

two and three.

Then the up­per­most sprig then

Bowed down to her knee;

Thus you may see

Jo­seph

These cher­ries are for me.

O eat your cher­ries

Ma­ry

O eat your cher­ries now

O eat your cher­ries

Mary

That grow up­on the bough.

As Joseph was a-walk­ing

He heard an­gels sing

“This night there shall be born

Our heav­en­ly king.

“He nei­ther shall be born

In house nor in hall

Nor in the place of para­dise

But in an ox stall.

“He shall not be clothed

In pur­ple or pall;

But all in fair lin­en

As wear ba­bies all.

“He shall not be rock­èd

In sil­ver nor gold

But in a wood­en cra­dle

That rocks on the mould.

He nei­ther shall be christ­ened

In milk nor in wine

But in pure spring well wa­ter

Fresh sprung from Beth­ine.

Mary took her ba­by

She dressed Him so sweet

She laid Him in a man­ger

All there for to sleep.

As she stood ov­er Him

She heard an­gels sing:

O bless our dear Sav­ior

Our heav­en­ly king.