When jesus christ was yet a child

He had a garden small and wild

Wherein he cherished roses fair

And wove them into garlands there

Now once as summertime drew nigh

There came a troop of children by

And seeing roses on the tree

With shouts they plucked them merrily

Do you bind roses in your hair

They cried in scorn to jesus there

The boy said humbly take i pray

All but the naked thorns away

Then of the thorns they made a crown

And with rough fingers pressed it down

Till on his forehead fair and young

Red drops of blood like roses sprung