A Ceremony of Carols, Op. 28: In Freezing Winter Night
Benjamin Britten
Behold, a silly tender babe,
In freezing winter night,
In homely manger trembling lies.
Alas, a piteous sight!
The inns are full no man will yield
This little pilgrim bed.
But forced he is with silly beasts
In crib to shroud his head.
This stable is a Prince's court,
This crib his chair of State
The beasts are parcel of his pomp,
The wooden dish his plate.
The persons in that poor attire
His royal liveries wear
The Prince himself is come from heaven
This pomp is prized there.
With joy approach, O Christian wight,
Do homage to thy King,
And highly praise his humble pomp,
wich he from Heaven doth bring.