Who's that knocking on the window,
Who's that standing at the door,
What are all those
Laying on the kitchen floor?
Who is the smiling
With hair as white as gin,
What is he doing with the
And who could have let him in?
Why has he rubies on his fingers,
A cold, cold crown on his head,
Why, when he caws his carol,
Does the salty snow run red?
Why does he ferry my
As a spider on a thread,
His fingers made of
And his tongue of gingerbread?
Why does the world before
Melt in a million suns,
Why do his yellow, yearning
Burn like saffron buns?
Watch where he comes
Out of the Christmas flame,
Dancing, double-talki ng:
Herod is his name.
