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The winter season of the year |
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When to this world Our Lord was born |
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The ox and donkey, so they say, |
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Did keep His Holy Presence warm. |
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How many oxen and donkeys now |
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If they were there when first He came |
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How many oxen and donkeys you know |
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At such a time would do the same? |
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And on that night it has been told |
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These humble beasts so rough and rude |
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Throughout the night of Holy Birth |
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Drank no water, ate no food. |
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How many oxen and donkeys now |
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Dressed in ermine, silk and such, |
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How many oxen and donkeys you know |
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At such a time would do as much? |
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As soon as to these humble beasts |
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Appeared Our Lord, so mild and sweet |
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With joy they knelt before His Grace |
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And gently kissed His tiny feet |
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Would we like oxen and donkeys then |
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In spite of all the things be heard |
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Would we like oxen and donkeys then |
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We'd hear the truth, believe His word? |