  ’Twas jolly, jolly Wat, my foy, He was a goodman’s shepherd boy, And he sat by his sheep On the hill-side so steep, And piped this song, Ut hoy! Ut hoy! O merry, merry sing for joy, Ut hoy! A’down from Heav’n that is so high There came an angel companye, And on Bethlehem hill Thro’ the night-tide so still Their song out-rang: On high, On high, O glory be to God on high, On high! Now must Wat go where Christ is born, Yea, go and come again to-morn. And my pipe it shall play, All my heart it doth say To Shepherd King: Ut hoy! Ut hoy! O merry, merry sing for joy, Ut hoy! O peace on earth, good will to men, The angels sang again, again, For to you was He born On this Christmas morn, So sing we all: On high, On high, O glory be to God on high, On high! Jesu my King, it’s naught for Thee, A bob of cherries, one, two, three, But my tar-box and ball, And my pipe, I give all To Thee, my King. Ut hoy! Ut hoy! O merry, merry sing for joy, Ut hoy! Farewell, herd-boy, saith Mary mild. Thanks, jolly Wat, smiled Mary’s child, For fit gift for a king Is your heart in the thing. So pipe you well, For joy, for joy! O merry, merry sing for joy, Ut hoy! |
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