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All His power, pomp and glory,
Which to think on must bewilder,--
All He left,--an what for think yo?
Just for love ov little childer.
In a common, lowly stable
He wor laid, an th' stars wor twinklin,
As if angel's 'een wor peepin
On His face 'at th' dew wor sprinklin.
An one star, like a big lantern,
Shepherds who ther flocks wor keepin,
Saw, an foller'd till it rested
Just aboon whear He wor sleepin.
Then strange music an sweet voices
Seem'd to sing reight aght o' Heaven,
"Unto us a child is born!
Unto us a son is given!"
Then coom wise men thro strange nations,--
Young men an men old an hoary,--
An they all knelt daan befoor Him,
An araand Him shone a glory.
Then a King thowt he wod kill Him,
Tho he reckoned net to mind Him,
But they went to a strange country,
Whear this bad King couldn't find Him.
An He grew up strong and sturdy,
An He sooin began His praichin,
An big craads stood raand to listen,
An they wondered at His taichin.
Then some sed bad things abaat Him,
Called Him names, laft at an jeered Him;--
Sed He wor a base imposter,
For they hated, yet they feeard Him.


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