The Fifth Day of Christmas

Today is the feast day of St. Thomas a'Becket, Bishop and martyr. St. Thomas is an excellent saint for our times. Unlike many of the early martyrs, his was not a straightforward case of dying for God and/or the Faith. St. Thomas died (much like St. Thomas More after him) for a principle regarding the Faith. To whit, that the Church, being founded by God, had certain rights, upon which the state must not impinge. Furthermore, he is a wonderfully human saint, prone to ambition, love of ease, swayed by desire to retain power and friendship-- and yet, when he became Archbishop of Canterbury, at the request of his friend, Henry II, willing to renounce it all, in order to serve God fully. There was a good deal of personal cost associated with this. It eventually cost him his friendship with the King, and at long last, his life. It is important for us to remember in our increasingly secular society, in which Christian morality, philosophy and virtue are under attack (at least passively), that we are called to witness, not only to God and the Faith of God, but to truth as well. I strongly recommend you read the account of his life on Catholic Online

I thought it would be good to post a carol that dates back to the time of St. Thomas a'Becket. It took me a little while to find one that fit the bill.... Indeed, when I found one, I was quite astonished by what it was. In Latin, it is Orientis Partibus, which sounds braw, and Latinish. But according to Hymns and Carols of Christmas.... it is the earliest version of a very childish little carol, The Friendly Beasts!

I am including the English translation below, but you really ought to read the article yourself. It is has the modern lyrics, the Latin lyrics, and the following translation:

From the East the donkey came,

Stout and strong as twenty men;

Ears like wings and eyes like flame,

Striding into Bethlehem.

Heh! Sir Ass, oh heh!

Faster than the deer he leapt,

With his burden on his back;

Though all other creatures slept,

Still the ass kept on his track.

Heh! Sir Ass, oh heh!

Still he draws his heavy load,

Fed on barley and rough hay;

Pulling on along the road --

Donkey, pull our sins away!

Heh! Sir Ass, oh heh!

Wrap him now in cloth of gold;

All rejoice who see him pass;

Mirth inhabit young and old

On this feast day of the ass.

Heh! Sir Ass, oh heh!