In bed I lay one chilly night,

My eyes weighed down with heavy sleep,

A host of bells with all their might

Were running riot in the deep.

It screamed with joy, each noisy bell,

So did all men in sinful bane,

For, this good news the noise did tell:

Our Lord today is born again.

But, as I listened in my sleep,

To this uproar of bells and men,

Some strange noise forced my mind to peep

Into an old deserted pen.

And there I saw, much to my shock,

Two sheep, two turkeys and two hens,

All grouped together like one flock,

Speaking as though in a conference.

‘Why must we die,’ began one hen,

‘Each time the Lord is born again?

They spill our blood—these sinful men—

The Lord's arrival to proclaim.’

‘E'en since the day that Adam fell,

And might began to chase the weak,

We home-kept birds have lived in hell,

There's none, not one, who'll for us speak.’

The next hen spoke in a mournful tone:

‘When shall salvation reach us too?

When shall we call our souls our own?

When shall we know just what to do?’

‘Soon man—proud man of dev'lish plots—

Shall pounce on us our blood to spill,

Our flesh he'll boil in big black pots,

An ancient custom to fulfil.’

With head bowed low and eyes in tears,

One turkey spoke, I heard her say:

‘Our case is worse than yours, my dears,

Few turks e'er see the New Year's Day.’

‘On Christmas Eve when all is Christ,

Men put poor turks in great distress;

They kill and eat our flesh with rice,

It's ritual murder, nothing less!’

With tear choked voice the next turk spoke:

‘Strange things occur on this strange earth:

The frog perspires in his cold cloak

When lizard chews pepper in mirth.’

‘Thus we poor birds who are for peace,

Are made to pay for Adam's sin,

While Eve's real serpent lives in peace,

Himself and all his next of kin.’

A sheep then spoke in great dismay:

‘A cruel world we're in, my friend!

At Christmas Eve man took away

My parents and they ne'er returned.’

‘Yet Christ Himself so loved his sheep:

That He became the Good Shepherd.

Our lambs His bosom there did sleep

When home from pastures green He led.’