The Ballad of Saint Nick

The Ballad of Saint Nick

Based on the legend of Saint Nicholas, Bishop of Myra, who lived in the 3rd to 4th Century A.D.

O come my children and hear
A legend that’s grown through the years
Of young Nicholas, Bishop of Myra

Tonight, before you can rest,
And dream your Christmas best,
Think of Nicholas, Bishop of Myra

This you must know, a long time ago,
A man had three lovely daughters
He had no money in hand, but weddings to plan
And he had no idea just where to go

One silent night, he awoke with a fright
At the crashing of metal and wood
He dashed out his door, and there on the floor
Was a sack of gold but no one in sight

A year soon went, and the money was spent
But his daughter was in need
How could it be, but down the chimney
Another sack of precious mint

When his youngest gal, though, longed to wed her beau
His cupboard again was bare
He said, “I know he’ll come back, I’ll set me a trap
For this kind man’s name I must know.”

Some metal and string, some bells that will ring
Fastened outside the front door
Late one eve, the bells broke the peace
As the giver was fleeing the scene

“Wait, good sir!” yelled the happy father
“Tell me, why should you think of me?”
The giver of night, came into the light
The young bishop was the secret giver

“Good sir Nick,” the father did quip
“Why did you run and hide?”
“Because it’s better to give, and then let live
With only the Lord to know of it.”

And so my children, ‘twas born
A tradition of giving without reward
Of good Nicholas, Bishop of Myra

And when you wake tomorrow morn
Before each wrapping is bruised and torn
I want each of you to praise the Lord

For Saint Nicholas, Bishop of Myra

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