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Christmas poem, a tongue-in-cheek comparison of the sparseness of the stable with the ornate jamboree that Christmas has become.

Christmas Child
So the stable was dirty, draughty and bare
The manger was rickety, half-filled with straw
The oil lamp was feeble and gave out no warmth
And nobody stepped in what lay on the floor.
The dust of long ages had settled, and Joseph
Had written his name in the dust on some barrels.
The cattle were lowing and Jesus awoke
And screamed in a manner untold by the carols.

In this scene of poor hygiene some shepherds appeared
For angels had told them the glorious news.
One shepherd, unthinking, stepped into the barn
And got something unspeakable all over his shoes.
They smiled at the baby who had calmed down a touch
Since Mary had fed him the eighth time that night
They saw he was special though still yet a child
And knelt down and worshipped in the flickering light.

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