'Twas in the moon of wintertime when all the birds had fled
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That mighty Gitchi Manitou sent angel choirs instead;
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Before their light the stars grew dim and wondering hunters heard the hymn,
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Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.
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Within a lodge of broken bark the tender babe was found;
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A ragged robe of rabbit skin enwrapped his beauty round
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But as the hunter braves drew nigh the angel song rang loud and high
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Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.
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The earliest moon of wintertime is not so round and fair
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As was the ring of glory on the helpless infant there.
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The chiefs from far before him knelt with gifts of fox and beaver pelt.
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Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.
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O children of the forest free, O seed of Manitou
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The holy Child of earth and heaven is born today for you.
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Come kneel before the radiant boy who brings you beauty peace and joy.
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Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.
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Huron Carol
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The Canadian Tenors |