Christmas

Christmas, Christmas
Christmas, Christmas
Bells are waiting, advent ring
The tortoise stove is lit again
And lamp oil light across the night
Has caught the streaks of winter rain
In many stained glass windows sheen
From Crimson Lake to Hookers Green
The holly in the winter hedge
And round the madder house, the yew
Will soon be stripped, to deck the ledge
The alter, font and arch and pew
So that the villagers can say
The church looks nice on Christmas Day
Christmas, Christmas
Christmas, Christmas

Provincial public houses blaze
And corporation tramcars clang
On lighted tenements I gaze
Where paper decorations hang
And bunting in the red town hall
Says Merry Christmas to you all
And London shops on Christmas Eve
Are strung with silver bells and flowers
Clocks ……………………………..
To pigeon haunted classic towers
And ………..clouds go scudding by
The many steepled London sky
Christmas, Christmas
Christmas, Christmas

And girls in slacks remember Dad
And office louts remember Mum
And sleepless children’s hearts are glad
And Christmas morning bells say “come”
Even to shining ones who dwell
Inside the Dorchester hotel
And is it true, and is it true
This most tremendous tale of old
Seen in a stained glassed windows hue
A baby in an ox’s stall
The Maker of the stars and sea
Became a child on earth for me
No love that in a family dwells
No carolling on frosty air
No old steeple’s shaking bells
Can with this single truth compare
That God was made in Palestine
And lives today in bread and wine

And is it true, and is it true
Christmas
And is it true, for if it is
Christmas
And is it true, for if it is
Christmas