On the eve of the twenty fifth day of December a
young Jewish baby was born
And they looked for the manger, the one where He laid and they looked for the clothing He’d worn
They looked for the stables where donkeys were tied and the inn where His life had begun
And they’ve searched high and low for His mammy and daddy for Mary and Joseph her man
They flock to the setting where Bethlehem lays each year through the sun and the rain
And they look once again for the baby and pray He’ll be born as a King once again
Still the baby’s been gone for these years which are many though His memory still lingers on
But it’s good for the mind to be free in believing each winter when Christmas time comes