Twas in the moon of wintertime, when all the birds had fled
The mighty Gitche Manitou sent angel choirs instead
Before their light the stars grew dim
And wondering hunters heard the hymn...
cho: Jesus your king is born,
Jesus is born,
In excelsis gloria.
Within a lodge of broken bark the tender babe was found
A ragged robe of rabbit skin enwrapped his beauty round
And as the hunter braves drew nigh
The angel song rang loud and high....
The earliest moon of wintertime is not so round and fair
As was the ring of glory on the helpless infant there
The chiefs from far before him knelt
With gifts of fox and beaver pelt...
Oh children of the forest free, oh sons of Manitou
The holy child of heaven and earth is born this day to you
Come kneel before the radiant boy
Who brings you beauty, peace, and joy...