Christ walks the world again, his lute upon his back,
His red robe worn to tatters, his riches gone to rack.
The wind that wakes the morning blows his hair about his face,
And his arms and legs are ragged with the thorny briar’s embrace,
For the hunt is up behind him, and his sword is at his side.
Christ, the bonny outlaw, walks the whole world wide,
Singing: “Lady, lady, will you come away with me,
To lie among the bracken, and eat the barley bread?
We shall see new suns arise, in golden far-off skies,
for the son of God and woman has not where to lay his head.”
– Dorothy Sayers