BALLAD OF THE THREE KINGS

To din of children’s squeals, crowds jostling, jarring,

to thundering kettle drums and trumpets blaring

three kings rode in to Bethlehem, and said:

“From far away our royal quest we’ve led

to bow our regal heads down before our king,

and shed a tear, for our joy is an upwelled spring.”

On they went through the town, to a stable, plain,

there to dismount their camels, to kneel to deign,

their servants hurrying, as they were kneeling,

to spread out a fine garment, gifts revealing;

Their spokesman king — the first one genuflecting —

his tribute gave, his choicest words electing.

The second one then spoke: “Oh, mother glowing,

a lovely child, — so bright-eyed, clearly owing —

his eyes to his dear mother’s lucent gaze!”

The third to Joseph turned, to add his praise:

“Master — with joy of joys you must be swelling!”

But from the manger beckoned Jesus, with missive telling:

“You kings have come to see me, a child, for now,

you, who to freedom’s heralds do sometimes bow:

but when I grow up to be a full-fledged man,

my following a throng, a veritable clan,

you’ll put your heads together, as your fears rise,

and from your strongmen take advice, unwise.

From far, with tributes you have made your quest

to bring me gold, myrrh and incense, words well-dressed

but later — just to hang onto your golden crown —

you’ll crown my head with thorns, and me disown,

and when to Calvary stony my cross I’ll bear

none of you three will come — I earnest swear!” —

Down o’er his ears his crown drew the spokesman king,

lost for words, feeling wit was no more his thing.

The others in low, hushed tones began to mutter,

into each royal ear disdain to utter:

“Every word proves he’s just a carpenter’s wife’s brat!”

They came with pomp — went, who knows how, after that.