Ballad 2001
By claud
- 667 reads
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
- Log in to post comments