An Irish man
with Irish pride
coddles his daughter on his knees
and there beside
the Christmas tree
he tells her what
the Yuletide means
Young child
of only five years old
the Season of Goodwill
preserves the hope of what should be
and with God's grace
there could be still
As child looks up
with trusting eyes
she hears the story he does tell
But near the end
the door bursts in
and bullets turn
the place to Hell
"Oh Da!
Why have you fallen down?
Your story isn't told!
Oh Da!
Please will you talk to me?
Oh Da, you're feeling awful cold"
Now Irish eyes
must weep again
Another father lost to kin
But weep far more
for Irish young
to have to see
incarnate sin
Poor child
You're only five years old
You loved
your father so
His eyes are closed
He's lost to you
no matter how
the future grows
And now they try
to justify
They say he's of a terror gang
The terror gang
deny that's true
You tell me where
the difference hangs
The sons
and daughters of this land
must shape
the future years
The choice
is peace and brotherhood
Or war and fear
and blood and tears
A child
was born in Israel
to speak
of God's goodwill
He spoke
of how the world should be
but through man's hate
We're not there still
