© 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