And bid him “cut his lucky” strong.
“We’re keeping of Christ Jesus’ feast,
Clear out,” said Short, “you little beast!”
They sang to “David’s royal Son,”
And not till all the drink was done
Abstained; then staggered to the door,
And sobered at the sight they saw.
Stark on the snow Christ baby lay.
’Twas Him those sots had cursed away.
Now tell me, what availed them, then,