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'Twas in the moon of wintertime |
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When all the birds had fled |
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That mighty Gitchi Manitou |
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Sent angel choirs instead |
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Before their light the stars grew dim |
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And wandering hunters heard the hymn |
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Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born |
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In excelsis gloria |
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Within a lodge of broken bark |
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The tender Babe was found |
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A ragged robe of rabbit skin |
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Enwrapp'd His beauty round |
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And as the hunter braves drew nigh |
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The angel song rang loud and high |
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Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born |
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In excelsis gloria |
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The earliest moon of wintertime |
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Is not so round and fair |
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As was the ring of glory |
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On the helpless infant there |
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The chiefs from far before him knelt |
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With gifts of fur and beaver pelt |
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Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born |
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In excelsis gloria |
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O children of the forest free |
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O sons of Manitou |
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The Holy Child of earth and heaven |
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Is born today for you |
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Come kneel before the radiant Boy |
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Who brings you beauty, peace and joy |
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Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born |
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In excelsis gloria |