HO. HO. HO.
The cold December wind has blown
The oldest gods of winters past
Inside our church, inside your home,
To change their names, and thus outlast
The newer gods of Christmas Now.
There's still a wreath and still a tree,
Even holly, oak, and mistletoe
They live in songs the children sing
Of what they sing they do not know-
A hymn to the gods of Christmas Then.
The Soldiers' God, the Solstice Child
Woden's Huntsmen on the wind
The Sun reborn, so tender and mild
The spear-pierced god is on the mend-
The smaller gods of Christmas When
So as you hang your mistletoe
And tell your sins to Santa Claus
Tuck red-wrapped presents safe below
The tall green tree (with plastic frost)
You're resurrecting the gods of Christmases Past
The oldest gods of winters past
Inside our church, inside your home,
To change their names, and thus outlast
The newer gods of Christmas Now.
There's still a wreath and still a tree,
Even holly, oak, and mistletoe
They live in songs the children sing
Of what they sing they do not know-
A hymn to the gods of Christmas Then.
The Soldiers' God, the Solstice Child
Woden's Huntsmen on the wind
The Sun reborn, so tender and mild
The spear-pierced god is on the mend-
The smaller gods of Christmas When
So as you hang your mistletoe
And tell your sins to Santa Claus
Tuck red-wrapped presents safe below
The tall green tree (with plastic frost)
You're resurrecting the gods of Christmases Past
