In nineteen hundred and twenty three, in the middle of sunny June,
The boys and girls in Sunday school on a Sunday afternoon,
To a mother and father with five in family,
There came the last addition and just in time for tea;
A tiny female baby.
Her brothers loved her dearly and her sister too,
They played with her and tickled her; they loved to hear her coo.
She learned to crawl, she learned to stand and soon she learned to walk,
It wasn’t long before they wished she hadn’t learned to talk.
She was a noisy baby.
There was a lady living near but not a child had she,
She really loved that baby, that baby was me,
So “Please can I adopt her?” she to my mother said
“My dear, I couldn’t give her up, she is mine born and bred.”
I was a cherished baby.
One day when I was older but still a quite small child,
Mum called for one of my brothers while he was playing wild.
“Just go up to the high street and buy a loaf of bread,
it won’t take long it isn’t far,” and then my mother said.
“and you can take the baby.”
With pushchair and with basket he set off with a friend,
My mother was quite unaware of how the trip would end.
The bread was bought in record time, there was no time to spare,
With games to play and balls to kick, their thoughts were just not there,
And they forgot the baby.
The got back home with bread and said “Now can we go and play?
We were in the middle of a real great game.” Mum said “What did you say?”
Mum said “I expect so, but first do tell me please, where have you left the baby?”
The kings who came to visit with gifts so fine and rare,
Well they weren’t plastic either, no, they could stand and stare,
At this sweet babe at Bethlehem the Saviour of mankind;
The Lord made flesh for all our sakes, the halt, the lame, the blind.
The black the white the yellow, the saint, the sinner too;
He came to be the dearest friend for me, and yes, for you.
So as we share this plastic Christmas lets spare a thought at least,
For the Blessed baby Jesus, as Him to share the feast.
Ask Him to shed His blessing upon this plastic life,
And maybe, yes just maybe, there’ll be an end to war and strife.
