Mary was a little cow 

The lad was minding sheep.

He had her up against the wall

While Joseph was asleep.

 

She fixed her eye on one bright star

And dreamed he was a god

Henceforth: “The Virgin with a tum”;

Not: “duffed, by a randy sod“.

 

She told the family such a tale

Of impregnating wind

And wide-eyed, in her innocence,

Declared she had not sinned!

 

(It was no secret Joseph’s wand

Unlike Lord Moses’ staff

Was out of procreation’s seed -

A legend local laugh.)

 

In dead of night to trumpet blast

And gobby angel’s roar.

The Holy ghost had done ‘er good;

She was not no one’s whore!

 

The Chosen  Ones weren’t random-chose

How they could spin a yarn!

At term, she bore the boy in bed

(Reported as a barn).

 

She was delivered at mid-day;

Three blokes came to the door;

They were delivering fresh hay

For spreading on the floor.

 

The family scribe took up his pen

To note God’s son was born -

To Mary - in a manger

In the dark - before the Dawn.

 

He wrote: a star stood overhead

And angels gave a shout;

Unlikely beasts forgathered there

And glory shone about.

 

One day in Joseph’s workshop,

To the bench the tot had crawled

“Jesus!” they cried, at his first chair

Henceforth, thus, He was called.

 

With elders he would argue

(He had his mother’s gift)

Mum whispered: “You’re divine lad”

Ere long there came a rift.

The Chosen Chiefs liked not his words;

His gain would be their loss.

They  saw him neither sheep nor lamb -

So hung him on a cross.

 

Then Mary said: “See - told yer so”

(For naught made Mary frown)

“All true gods have to die to live”

The Scribe, he wrote that down.

 

He was - of course - our Mary’s dad

Did he forget to mention?

To dupe the world with arrant tosh

Was their avowed intention.

 

So, as today is Christmas Day

And scribed words on me grate,

I thought I’d pen these few short lines

To set the record straight.

 

Barrie Baa-Humbug.