The King of bliss thy father is,
As it was his will.
The other night I saw a sight,
A mayd a cradle keep:
"Lullay," she sung, and said among,
"Lie still, my child, and sleep."
"How should I sleep? I may not for weep,
So sore am I begone:
Sleep I would; I may not for cold,
And clothes have I none.