I was born adrift on Christmas Day,
the earth was stiff, the clouds were grey.
’twas not easy, to keep the thieves at bay:
I was profligate on Christmas Day.
We were both adrift on Christmas Day,
our fetters swift, and shiny and gay.
You never did keep those miracles at bay:
we were born again, on Christmas Day.
You were bored to death on Christmas Day,
your arms were stiff, you went away.
You must’ve let the paupers play:
you were stoned to death on Christmas Day.