The Wexford Carol (Irish: Carúl Loch Garman, Carúl Inis Córthaidh) is a traditional religious Irish Christmas carol originating from County Wexford, and specifically, Enniscorthy (whence its other name), and dating to the 12th century.[1][unreliable source?] The subject of the song is that of the nativity of Jesus Christ. "The Wexford Carol," sometimes known by its first verse, "Good people all this Christmas time," is one of the oldest extant Christmas carols in the European tradition. The song achieved a renewed popularity due to the work of William Grattan Flood (1859 - 1928), who was organist and musical director at St. Aidan's Cathedral in Enniscorthy. He transcribed the carol from a local singer, and had it published in the Oxford Book of Carols, putting Enniscorthy into most carol books around the world. This version uses John Renbourns original words with a classic translation from the reknowned gaelic singer Kenna Campbell. The Wexford Carol – words, John Renbourn, translation Kenna Campbell Lullay, lullay, my tiny child, too soon you’ll know the world so wild, Yes, all too soon you will be grown, and I’ll bide here, alone, alone; The rushing bellows you shall ride, and the light of the North Star will be your guide, But yet a while I’ll have you stay, lullay my tiny child, lullay. For you shall run in meadows green and sport with otters all in the stream, And you shall chase the dappled deer, and swim with salmon in the waters clear; To pluck the small birds from the sky, and the tail of the south wind you shall fly, And take the high hills for your home, blood of my blood, bone of my bone. The moon must sleep beyond the tree, so weep, sweet maid of Galilee, The sun must rise before the cross to dry your tears and share your loss; The darkest hour of the starless night must bow to the power of the eastern light That heals the earth and makes us whole, heart of my heart, soul of my soul. And when at last your course is run, joy of my joy, my little son Beneath the sky you'll stand alone, flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone. Yes, you shall stand on the coal-black sands to cross o'er the waters of the Western lands, But now I have you at my breast, lullay my sweet one, gently rest. Ba bà, ba bà, mo leanabh maoth, ro-aithghearr còmhlaichidh tu an saogh’l, Ro-aithghearr fàsaidh tu gu aois, ’s bidh mis’ am aonar an seo gun thu. Gun gluais thu aotrom thar nan stuadh, do chùrs’ bidh ri soills’ reul na h-àirde tuath, Ach tacan beag bidh thu rim thaobh, ba bà, ba bà, mo leanabh maoth. Gun ruith thu aotrom thar nan cluan, a’ cluich le dòbhrain san t-sruthan fhuar, Gun fhois gun tàmh, thu as an dèidh, a’ snàmh le bradain, ’s a’ sealg an fhèidh; Far iteig glacaidh tu na h-eòin, air earball na gaoith-deas anns na neòil; Do dhachaidh anns gach beinn is sliabh, fuil thu dem fhuil-sa, m’ anam ’s mo chiall. A’ ghealach cromaidh cùl nan craobh, O, sil do dheòir a mhaighdinn chiùin, Oir eirigh grian os cionn na crois’, a shiabadh sùilean ’s a’ chaoidh nad chois. An t-àm as duirche den oidhche chiar, feumaidh e geilleadh don Ear ’s don ghrian, ’S don chumhachd shlànaicheas gach nì, anam dem m’ anam, crìdhe dem chrìdh’. Nuair ruigeas tu ceann thall do chuairt, aoibhneas dem aoibhneas, mo mhacan suairc’, Fon iarmailt seasaidh tu leat fhèin, feòil thu dem fheòil-sa, is crè dem chrè. Oir ’s eiginn teàrnadh gu tràigh dhubh chiar, a ghabhail an aisig don àird an iar Ach, fhathast tha thu ri mo chliabh, ba bà mo leanaban, ba bà mo chiall.