Away in a manger no crib for a bed,
The little Lord Jesus lays down his sweet head.
The stars in the bright sky look down where he lay,
The little Lord Jesus asleep on the hay.
The cattle are lowing the baby awakes,
He'll be raising the dead with the noise that he makes.
Strangers come and go all through the long winter's night;
Joseph gather up your family, slip away before light.
Take the gold, ditch the frankincense,
Take the donkey, leave the myrrh.
Close your ears to all this mystical nonsense,
To archangels, prophecies and heavenly choir.
Take the boy and keep him safe
From misguided men and gods alike;
What sick mind could take this pure and perfect child
And turn him into a sacrifice?
You will watch him with wonder, he will learn, he will grow,
But the lessons he'll teach us we already know.
Mothers crying for dead children since the world was begun,
So Mary, whisper these words to your beautiful son -
'In 30 short years you'll be nailed to a tree,
And although you will suffer no reason there'll be;
Two millennia in the future things will still be as bad,
So grow old, be a carpenter just like your dad.'
Tacet final verse
(You're not like me, O Father, and I'll tell you why:
Sit there safely in heav'n, send your sole son to die.
So this is the best plan your great mind can make:
Crucify this poor boy to make good your mistake?)