While Shepherds Washed Their Socks By Night

[Line one is an old schoolboy version of the first Line of ‘While Shepherds’. I wrote the rest of verse one based upon it, but was then astounded to discover ‘my verse one’ word for word identical online. As such, I must claim this poem as a collaberation.] While shepherds washed their socks by night And hung them on the line The Angel of the Lord came down And said those socks are mine Fear not he said though they be red You washed them not with whites Glad tidings of great joy I bring They weren’t in with my tights If you see David down this way He’s bound to say this line I’ll separate the colours, Lord And things will turn out fine O laundry maid did you not read The instructions displayed I must complain, look at this stain Don’t think that you’ll be paid My laundry sack produced forthwith A purple, once-white thong I also think that thong has shrunk Can’t get the damned thing on O God my thong it sure is high How it hurt my cod-piece Good grief I can’t wear it again It slips right up my crease