Black Chrismas

Black Christmas. I was bore while I was young, My word sound odd but strong, All match passes with different sooth and charms, Celebrating the feast of who was known a lamb, Was it a pleasant thing to see? Far from my home voices heard all the hills, My face turns black and fiord, My heart kissed all my urging part, A chapel I saw, old and young bent their path, They dance with mood which change human living, They all sing a song of jittery, Death smell their path enclave them in slavery, The lamb sworn this in total misery, O ye fatal men the voices of bard cry whelminly, Come forth thee, faithful thy soul won happily, Receive my grace of hopeful tomorrow, Hear to it says the lamb, I will bless thou, Special among all things, multiple in human thinking. By Divine Atabod