In numbers, and but these few, br I sing thy birth, oh JESU! br Thou pretty Baby, born here, br With sup'rabundant scorn here; br Who for thy princely port here, br Hadst for thy place br Of birth, a base br Out-stable for thy court here. br br Instead of neat enclosures br Of interwoven osiers; br Instead of fragrant posies br Of daffadils and roses, br Thy cradle, kingly stranger, br As gospel tells, br Was nothing else, br But, here, a homely manger. br br But we with silks, not cruels, br With sundry precious jewels, br And lily-work will dress thee; br And as we dispossess thee br Of clo}ts, we'll make a chamber, br Sweet babe, for thee, br Of ivory, br And plaster'd round with amber. br br The Jews, they did disdain thee; br But we will entertain thee br With glories to await here, br Upon thy princely state here, br And more for love than pity: br From year to year br We'll make thee, here, br A free-born of our city.