Week Seven: “Joseph B.C.”

May he have ten fingers
and may he have ten toes
and if you’ve got a tail or wings
may he have none of those.
May he look just like his mama
she’s a sight to see
And yes, I know that when he’s born
he’ll have nothing from me
nothing from me

It’s colder than a witch’s tit
on this donkey road
Mary’s bigger than a house
and ready to explode
The Lord will give us rest, she says
if only we believe
but I don’t think you’ve got a Hilton
hidden in your sleeve
in your sleeve

‘Cause let’s get real, I’ve never felt
your presence or your grace
except the joy in Mary,
streaked like makeup on her face
And so I’ll go from inn to inn
just searching for a light
and if I pray, I’d pray that you’d
leave us the hell alone after tonight

And I will teach him baseball
and I will teach him music
and if he’s got a brain then I will
teach him how to use it
He might be yours forever
but now he’s mine to keep from harm
And I’ll be goddamned if my son
is born inside a barn

It’s the longest evening of the year
and all the freaks are out
desperate for some glory days
they think will come about
And the fat man at the inn,
he grins and says we’re just too late
but he’s got a bale of hay or two
at twice the normal rate
the normal rate

I grit my teeth and I say yes
cause that’s what Mary needs
And I lay her down to give birth
‘mongst the chickens and the weeds
Cause unlike you I’m present
I listen and I care
You may have made the heavens
but let’s see you make a chair
Yeah, make a chair

And I don’t really know if
all that angel stuff is true
But when it comes to fathering
I’m King Kong next to you
He may be born to be the best
but I’ll see him at his worst
And if the world is meant to love him
I will be the one to love him first

[chorus 2x]

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