"On the thirteenth day of Christmas
I saw King Jesus go
About the plain beyond my pane
Wearing his cap of snow.
Sad was his brow as the snow-sky
While all the world made merry,
In the black air his wounds burned bare
As the fire in the holly berry.
At all the weeping windows
The greedy children gather
And laugh at the clown in his white nightgown
In the wicked winter weather.
I dragged the desperate city,
I swagged the combing light
I stood alone at the empty throne
At the ninth hour of night.
On the thirteenth day of Christmas
When the greasy guns bellow
His eye is dry as the splitting sky