“Huh!” The herald hangels hing,
“Hiccups are
a Yule-y thing.
“Stone the
crows and mercy mild,
Mary’s
popped another child!
“We know
that nations won’t arise –
Just got
squashed by Him-of-the-Flies.
“Don’t ask
us what you should do;
One’s
enough, but as for two...”
“Hark!” The
lesser choir wails,
“Nathaniel’s
born. How Daddyo pales!”
Confusion
reigns; more’s the pity,
But no one’s
drawn to Nathanielianity,
So God’ll
give this one’s mass a miss
And, for
Wisdom’s sake say nowt re this:
Mum’s to
leave the runt behind,
Where
Herod’s army’s far from kind,
But, lo, her
firstborn’s free to rise
And
rubber-stamp triumph on the skies.
“Hark!
Heralds all,” the soldiers yelp,
“We’ve saved
the day without your help.”
