The text is drawn from anonymous lyrics dating from the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries.
Myrie it is whil somer ylast
Wyth foweles song;
But now neigheth wyndes blast
And weder strong.
Ei! Ei! What, this nyght is long,
And I wyth wel muchel wrong
Sorwe and murne and faste.
Stedefast crosse, among all other
Thou art a tree mickle of price;
In branch and flower swilk another
I ne wot none in wood no rys,
Sweete be the nailes and sweete be the tree,
And sweeter be the burden that hanges upon thee.
Nou goth sonne under wode –
Me reweth, Marie, thi faire rode.
Nou goth sonne under tre-
Me reweth, Marie, thi sone and the.