© Glen B Powell 1985
Away in a manger no crib for a bed
His mother got pregnant before she got wed.
What would have happened if those wise men had said,
A bastard child like that would be better off dead.
But he wasn’t just anyone
He was
God’s Illegitimate Son
Betrayed by a friend for the price on his head,
Never sure to have shelter, or food or a bed.
Without money or title, or woman or land,
What sort of God wants to be that sort of man?
Begotten not conceived but who believed
God’s Illegitimate Son
Now men have called themselves priests
When they were no more than whores.
And prayed aloud for peace While they planned to start wars.
And Men who believe the only crime is getting caught,
Bring the innocent to trial without sparing a thought,
And justify it all in the name of
God’s Illegitimate Son
Away in a manger no crib for a bed
The little Lord God laid down his sweet head,
And saw his life stretched out from beginning to end,
But the lamb to the slaughter was willingly led
To die a slow criminal’s death
God’s Illegitimate Son
*aka Bast…d