Mediaeval Baebes - Swete Sone lyrics

Swete sone, reu on me

And breste out of thy bondes

For me thinket that I see

Thoru Bothen thin bondes

Nailes driven into the tree

So reufuliche thu honges

Now is betre that I flee

And lett alle these londes

Swete sone, thy faire face

Droppet all on blode

And thy body downward

Is bounded to the rode

How may thy modress hert

Tholen so swete fode

That blessed was of alle born

And best of alle gode

How may thy modress hert

Tholen so swete fode

That blessed was of alle born

And best of alle gode

Swete sone, reu on me

And bring me out of this live

For me thinket that I see

Thy deth, it neyhet swithe

Thy feet nailed to the tree

Now may I no more thrive

For this werld withouten thee

Ne shall me maken blithe