O then bespoke Mary, so meek and so mild,
Pluck me some cherries, Joseph, for I am with child;
O then bespoke Joseph, with words so unkind,
Let him pluck the cherries that brought thee with child.
O then bespoke Jesus in his mother’s womb,
Bow down then the tallest tree, that my mother may have some;
Then bowed down the tallest tree, it bent to Mary’s hand,
Then she cried, See, Joseph, I have cherries at command.
O then bespoke Joseph, I have done Mary wrong,
But cheer up, my dearest, and be not cast down;