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Jun 2012
I WENT BACK TO THE CHRISTMAS PLAY
I HAVEN'T BEEN IN YEARS
AND JUST LIKE  ALL THE TIMES BEFORE
I BROUGHT ALONG SOME BEERS
IT WAS MY YOUNG SON'S DAUGHTER
WHO I HAD COME TO SEE
SHE WAS BETTER THAN MY SON HAD BEEN
SHE WAS WISE MAN NUMBER THREE

THE STORY, IT REMAINED THE SAME
OF JESUS AND HIS BIRTH
OF HOW THE ANGELS CAME AND TOLD
TO THE SHEPHERDS HERE ON EARTH
THE BOY WHO PLAYED THE ANGEL
WAS SUPPORTED BY A HOIST
HE WAS EXTREMELY NERVOUS
WHICH MADE HIS WINGS QUITE MOIST

HIS NAME WAS DAN AND HE WAS FROM
A TOWN OUTSIDE OF WHEELING
THE HOIST GAVE WAY AND ALL I SAW
WAS DAN SINGH ON THE CEILING
HE LANDED SAFE, THE PLAY WENT ON
AND NO ONE WAS THE WISER
UNTIL A WATER PIPE DID BREAK
AND STARTED SPEWING QUITE THE GEYSER

I SAT AND WATCHED WITH MY YOUNG SON
WE KEPT IT TO OURSELVES
BUT ONE WISE MAN WAS SIX FEET TALL
AND MADE THE OTHERS LOOK LIKE ELVES
I THOUGHT BACK TO THE  TIMES BEFORE
OF HOW THE PLAY ONCE WAS
IT NEVER REALLY WORKED OUT RIGHT
AND WE NEVER KNEW THE CAUSE

BUT HEADS FELL  OFF AND DONKEYS PEED
AND ANGELS LOST THEIR WINGS
BUT THESE WE ALL EXPECTED
THESE WERE SURELY SPECIAL THINGS
THAT MADE EACH PLAY DIFFERENT
EACH PLAY BECAME IT'S OWN
SPECIAL LITTLE MOMENT
AND EACH ONE STOOD  ALONE

NO ONE PLAY WAS PERFECT
BUT NEVER WOULD WE SAY
WE RATHER WOULD HAVE STAYED AT HOME
THAN COME OUT THERE THIS DAY
REMEMBER NOW, SOME YEARS HAD PASSED
SINCE I FIRST SAW THIS SHOW
F/X HAD NOW BEEN ADDED
AND THE BABY'S CRIB, IT GLOWED

THEY TAPED A BABY CRYING
TO COME OUT FROM THE CRECHE
IT WAS THE FIRST TIME EVER
JESUS CRIED LIKE DJ FRESH
THE TAPE THEY USED WAS BORROWED
BUT THE KIDS THEY DID THEIR DUTY
BUT IN THE BACK, BEHIND THE CRYS
WE ALL HEARD "SHAKE YER *****"

I CLOSED MY EYES PERCHANCE TO THINK
OF TIMES SO LONG AGO
OF FIGHTING THROUGH THE TRAFFIC
AND DRIVING IN THE SNOW
I LOOKED ACROSS AND THEN I SAW
MY SON HAD DONE THE SAME
I WONDERED THEN IF HE THOUGHT BACK
AND IF THIS  WAS JUST A GAME

THE PLAY WENT ON WITH OUT MUCH FUSS
AND WE ALL STOOD UP AND CHEERED
FOR EACH AND EVERY CHILD THERE
AND THE FEW THAT HAD REAL BEARDS
I SOUND AS THOUGH IT IS A WASTE
OF TIME, BUT THEN AGAIN
NEXT YEAR I KNOW THAT I'LL RETURN
TO WATCH FROM EIGHT TILL TEN.
Roger Turner - Poet
Written by
Roger Turner - Poet
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