'Twas in the moon of the winter time when all the birds had fledThat Mighty Gitshi Manitou sent angel-choirs instead. Before their light the stars grew dim And wand'ring hunters heard the hymn "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 ran loud and high "Jesus, your King is born, Jesus is born; In Excelsis Gloria!"
The earliest moon of winter time is not so round and fairAs was the ring of glory on the helpless Infant there, While Chiefs from far before Him knelt With gifts of fox and beaver pelt. "Jesus, your King is born, Jesus is born; In Excelsis Gloria!"
O children of the forest free, O sons of Manitou,The Holy Child of earth and heav'n is born today for you. Come, kneel before the radiant Boy Who brings you beauty, peace and joy. "Jesus, your King is born, Jesus is born; In Excelsis Gloria!"
