An Irish Welcome

'Twas Christmas Eve at St. Mary's and the Pastor Father Gibb,
Was watching Michael the sexton, as he carefully fixed the Crib.
The sheep and the oxen were standing guard - the straw was neatly piled:
And Mary and Joseph were kneeling admiring their tender Child.
The star that guided the Magi flooded the stable with light.
"Tis beautiful, Michael," the Pastor said, "It looks like that First Holy Night."
"Ah, faith, and I think it is terrible," the sexton replied with a frown;
"The way that Our Savior had to be born, in that miserable pagan town.
Sure, there isn't an Irishman living, much less is there one in the grave,
From County Derry down to Kerry that'd let Him be born in a cave.
If the Irish were living in Bethlehem, Joseph need not have knocked;
Sure, Mary and he could have walked right in, for our doors are never locked.
And if they had come to my cottage, they'd have found the door full wide - 
'Cead mile failte,' I'd say to them, God bless ye and step inside.
I'd shake up the old turf fire, and make them  as warm as could be,
And I'd have my wife, God rest her, make them a pot of tea.
And if the soldiers of Herod, came after the Baby, the fakes;
Me and the neighbors would rout them, like Patrick drove out the snakes.
Tis a pity, Father, I tell ye, without a word of lie,
That there wasn't an Irishman livin'when Mary and Joseph passed by."
                      .....Rev. James Connaughton