Not of the Christ who came
Two thousand years ago;
Only the firelight glow
In one loved cot I know.

Not of those shepherds old,
Watching their flocks by night!
But Father, and Kate with a light,
Seeing that cows is right.

Not of the Angel song;
Peace unto men of Goodwill;
Only my brother Bill
Dead, and he done no ill!

Not of the Heavenly Host,
Bringing tidings of great joy;
But my mother’s homely employ,
And her prayer, ‘My boy, my boy!’