The Christmas Robin

‘Twas cold the night of first Noel.  The fire was barely going
As Mary asked her stable mates to keep the embers glowing.
The ox and ass were both asleep and did not hear her plea
But someone did.  A little bird came fluttering down to see.
He flapped his wings and fanned the flames ‘til fire was burning bright, 

No matter though his chest got burned hot scarlet in his flight.
For helping warm the Jesus child that bird by God was blessed,
And that is how the robin got the red upon his breast.

Watchnight

 

Winter comes with icy fingers touching toes of carol singers
As they sing of Christmas time, out among the frosty rime.

Angel voices, midnight choirs, echo from the snowy spires
as stars glint brightly in the east, shining on St Stephen's feast.

Warm beside a roaring fire, thoughts turn to a lowly byre
Where a child lay in a manger, born to save the world from danger.