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Masters in This Hall

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.

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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Shakil Ahmed 28 November 2015

lovely poem you have painted your passions very well in the poem, i enjoyed reading the poem, thanks

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