Advent, day thirteen.

Today’s advent poem is about family.

You know- those people you will spend Christmas with. You will eat too much with them, drink too much with them.

With a smaller number of them, you will waddle out into the winter air in a futile attempt to walk of the mountain of calories you have collectively consumed.

You will share moments of deep joy, if you are lucky. You will almost certainly irritate one another too. You will grit your teeth against the kind of anger only possible in the close company of family members.

It was always like this I reckon…

If Jesus had been born in Nazareth

If Jesus had been born in Nazareth

They’d prepare the way of the Lord

The in-laws would gather, take over the manor

Young Joseph would just be ignored

If Jesus had been born in Nazareth

The paths would have all been made straight

The midwife would chide, send the kids off outside

A whole village would stand by and wait

If Jesus had been born in Nazareth

He’d have a fine bed for his head

But while men smoked cigars and blew smoke to the stars

He was born in a stable instead

Jesus was not born in Nazareth

This king never needed a throne

The first thing he saw was dirty old straw

Our Lord was a long way from home