Ballad 2001

The midnight Mass was over

And the worshippers in bed.

The Christ Child wandered through the town,

With thorns about his head.

In New York and in Kabul

They toil to clear the mess

And drops of the Christ Child`s precious blood

Mingled with all the rest.

He stood by the door of Casualty

Where doctors strove to save

But no one had time to thank Him

For the courage that he gave.

In the streets and lanes around Him

The tired revellers lay;

And they jeered at Him, but He blessed them

As he wandered on his way.

He entered the local Hilton,

Where the lights were still aglow;

But He hadn`t got a credit card

And they didn`t want to know.

He found an abandoned warehouse

Where banished children slept;

His heart embraced their loveless dreams

And He blessed them as He wept.

He walked the wards of the Hospice

Where the lights burned blue and dim

And the tossing of sleepless patients

Eased at a smile from him.

And still the Christ Child wandered

And his love spread over the night -

As he lifted His little arms to bless

The wounds in His hands glowed bright.

A young lass lay in labour

In a disused engine shed -

The Christ Child mopped her fevered brow -

"Mother, I`m home," He said.

? Claud Holmes