Abowt The Fyld Thei Pyped Full Right Lyrics

Tyrle, tyrle, so merylye the sheppherdes began to blowe.

Abowt the fyld thei pyped full right,
Even abowt the middes off the nyght;
Adown frome heven thei saw cum a light.
Tyrle, tirle.

Off angels ther came a company,
With mery songes and melody.
The shepperdes anonne gane them aspy.
Tyrle, tyrle.

Gloria in excelsis, the angels song,
And said, who peace was present among,
To every man that to the faith wold long.
Tyrle, tyrle.

The shepperdes hyed them to Bethleme,
To se that blyssid sons beme;
And ther they found that glorious streme.
Tyrle, tyrle.

Now preye we to that mek chyld,
And to his mothere that is so myld,
The wich was never defylyd,
Tyrle, tyrle.

That we may cume unto his blysse,
Where joy shall never mysse.
Than we may syng in Paradice:
Tirle, tirle.

I pray yow all that be here,
Fore to syng and mak good chere,
In the worship off God thys yere.
Tyrle, tirle.