A week to Christmas Cards of snow and holly Gimcracks in the shops Wishes and memories wrapped in tissue paper Trinkets, gadgets and lollipops As is through coloured glasses we remember the childhood thrill Waking in the morning to the rustling of paper The eiderdown heaped in a hill Of dogs and bears and bricks and apples The feeling that Christmas Day was a coral island in time Where we land and eat our lotus But where we can never stay
There was a star in the east The Magi in their turbans brought their luxury toys In homage to the child born to capsize their values And wreck their equipoise A smell of hay, like peace in the dark stable Not peace, however, but a sword To cut the Gordian Knot of logical self-interest The fool-proof golden cord For Christ walked in where philosophers tread But armed with more than folly Making the smooth place rough And knocking the heads of church and state together
In honour of whom We have taken over the pagan Saturnalia for our annual treat Letting the belly have its say Ignoring the spirit while we eat And conscience still goes crying through the desert With sackcloth round his loins A week to Christmas Hark the Herald Angels beg for copper coinsTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
