Were you born in December,
Is that the right time of year?
Were your parents lonely
With all your family and angels near?
Did the shepherds come singing;
What did you hear?
Were you born in a barn?
The story is so unclear.
But you came and you gave
And you stayed
Before you went away.
The story begins
When God put on skin
To live and die in our place.
Was it cold outside
On the night you were born?
Did you come in the evening,
The afternoon or the morning?
I don’t know the answers;
I might never know the truth.
Except that I am certain
Of a few things about you.
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