No bright star shining in the east.
No table laid for festive feast.
No shepherds watching in the field.
No parcels bright with ribbon sealed.
No warming, spicy, fragrant punch.
No roasted turkey Christmas lunch.
No figgy pudding, no mince pie.
No reindeer flying ‘cross the sky.
No baby lying in a manger.
No smile to cheer this shabby stranger.
No gift of myrrh, incense, or gold.
No shelter from the winter cold.
No “Once in Royal David’s City”.
No Christmas cheer, just looks of pity.
No baubled, tinselled Christmas tree.
No love.
No home.
No hope for me.