The night before Our Lord was born
Saint Joseph went about forlorn,
Knocking at doors from left to right,
Knocking at every door in sight,
Asking if anybody would,
Oh please, would anyone be so good
As to invite the Virgin Mary
In somebody’s house that night to tarry —
And had they a room to spare where she
Could wait for Our Lord’s Nativity?
But poor Saint Joseph was quite unable
To find a lodging, except in a stable;
And it was stuffy and cold and damp,
It had no window, it had no lamp,
It had no table, no bed, no chairs,
It had no up-stairs and no down-stairs;
A very unsuitable place it was,
Inhabited by an ox and an ass;
But they were polite to Our Blessed Mother,
They stood beside her and made no bother,
And did not utter a bray or a moo
Until the time it was proper to,
When the moon went down at the break of morn,
And Christmas began, and Our Lord was born.
And Our Lord was beautiful to behold
The minute He was one minute old.
And He smiled, but of course He did not speak,
He was too little, He was too weak;
But He did do all that He was required:
He lay in the manger and was admired,
And was most worthy to be adored,
For really and truly He was Our Lord!