Above a stable, shining bright,
Was a warm and glowing Northern light.
A babe was born upon this day,
Amongst the beasts and scratchy hay.
The son of God, the prophecy said,
A man whose story shall be read
By clowns and fools from across the lands,
Who were searching for some helping hand;
Some means of grabbing minds and souls
And squeezing them into collection bowls.
Now two thousand years of blood, war and tears
Have forged those words into mind and sword.
Till now when shines a different light
One that needs no bend or fight.
Man will follow this new path
And lift the threat of God's own wrath.
But there is one thing that we must keep,
Before we burn the scripted heap.
Man's only gift born in the hay,
Was the magical gift of Christmas day.
When Christmas trees are shining bright,
With baubles, stars and Christmas lights.
And presents wrapped with greatest care
Are waiting for an excited tear.
On Christmas morning as snow falls,
Children sing and deck the halls.
For Santa's been to spread the joy,
To every little girl and boy.
So thank you Mr. Jesus Lord,
Not for all the blood and swords;
But for the presents, snow and Christmas cheer
That come upon us every year.