Masters in This Hall Poem by William Morris

Masters in this hall, hear ye news today.
Brought from over the sea and ever I you pray.

Nowell, nowell, nowell, nowell sing we clear!
Holpen are all folk on Earth, born is God's Son so dear!
Nowell, nowell, nowell, nowell sing we loud!
God today 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.

Nowell, nowell, nowell, nowell sing we clear!
Holpen are all folk on Earth, born is God's Son so dear!
Nowell, nowell, nowell, nowell sing we loud!
God today hath poor folk raised and cast a-down the proud.

Then to Bethlem town, we went two and two,
And in a sorry place, heard the oxen low.

Nowell, nowell, nowell, nowell sing we clear!
Holpen are all folk on Earth, born is God's Son so dear!
Nowell, nowell, nowell, nowell sing we loud!
God today hath poor folk raised and cast a-down the proud.

Therein did we see, a sweet and goodly may
And a fair old man, upon the straw she lay.

Nowell, nowell, nowell, nowell sing we clear!
Holpen are all folk on Earth, born is God's Son so dear!
Nowell, nowell, nowell, nowell sing we loud!
God today hath poor folk raised and cast a-down the proud.

And a little child, on her arm had she,
'Wot ye who this is?' said the hinds to me.

Nowell, nowell, nowell, nowell sing we clear!
Holpen are all folk on Earth, born is God's Son so dear!
Nowell, nowell, nowell, nowell sing we loud!
God today hath poor folk raised and cast a-down the proud.

This is Christ the Lord, masters be ye glad!
Christmas is come in, and no folk should be sad.

Nowell, nowell, nowell, nowell sing we clear!
Holpen are all folk on Earth, born is God's Son so dear!
Nowell, nowell, nowell, nowell sing we loud!
God today hath poor folk raised and cast a-down the proud.