On a winter night, when a star was bright In a shed a child was born The king of Jews, of mortal blood Soon to be scorned Poor Mary, carried the fruit of lust by the holy ghost Disguised as the hobogang from the slums of Jerusalem Burning rage of impotent carpenter Left Mary is bruises She hid the tears, fled to comfort To waiting arms of holy ghost Bastard son Judean swine Ended his path on a cross of pain Glory at Golgotha for his fall