Mary stood in the
Baking a loaf of bread.
An angel flew in the window‘We’ve a job for you,’ he said.‘God in his big gold
Sitting in his big blue chair,
Wanted a mother for his little son.
Suddenly saw you there.’Mary shook and trembled,‘It isn’t true what you say.’‘Don’t say that,’ said the angel.‘The baby’s on its way.’Joseph was in the
Planing a piece of wood.‘The old man’s past it,’ the neighbours said.‘That girls been up to no good.’‘And who was that elegant fellow,’They said. ‘in the shiny gear?’The things they said about
Were hardly fit to hear.
Mary never answered,
Mary never replied.
She kept the information,
Like the baby, safe inside.
It was the election winter.
They went to vote in the town.
When Mary found her time had
The hotels let her down.
The baby was born in an
Next to the local pub.
At midnight, a
Turned up from the Farmers’ club.
They talked about an
That made a hole on the sky,
Said they’d been sent to the Lamb and
To see God come down from on high.
A few days later a
And a five-star general were
With the head of an African
In a bullet-proof limousine.‘We’ve come,’ they said ‘with
For the little boy to choose.’Told the tale about war and
In the television news.
After them came the
With rifle and bombs and gun,
Looking for enemies of the state.
The family had packed up and gone.
When they got back to the
The neighbours said, to a man,‘That boy will never be one of us,
Though he does what he blessed well can.’He went round to all the peopleA paper crown on his head.
Here is some bread from my father.
Take, eat, he said.
Nobody seemed very hungry.
Nobody seemed to care.
Nobody saw the God in
Quietly standing there.
He finished up in the papers.
He came to a very bad end.
He was charged with bringing the living to life.
No man was that prisoner’s friend.
There’s only one kind of
To fit that kind of crime.
They rigged a trial and shot him dead.
They were only just in time.
They lifted the young man by the leg,
Thy lifted him by the arm,
They locked him in a
In case he came to harm.
They stored him safe as
Under seven rocks.
One Sunday morning he burst
Like a jack-in-the-box.
Through the town he went walking.
He showed them the holes in his head.
Now do you want any loaves?
He cried.‘Not today’ they said.
