All the streets are filled with laughter and light
And the music of the season,
And the merchants' windows are all bright
With the faces of the children,
And the families hurrying to their homes
As the sky darkens and freezes
Will be gathering around their hearths and tables
Giving thanks for God's graces
And the birth of the rebel Jesus.
Well, they call him by The Prince of Peace
And they call him by The Savior,
And they pray to him upon the seas
And in every bold endeavor,
And they fill his churches with their pride and gold
As their faith in him increases,
But they've turned the nature that I worship in
From a temple to "a robbers' den,"
In the words of the rebel Jesus.
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We guard our world with locks and guns
And we guard our fine possessions,
And once a year when Christmas comes
We give to our relations,
And perhaps we give a little to the poor
If the generosity should seize us,
But if any one of us should interfere
In the business of why they are poor,
They get the same as the rebel Jesus.
But pardon me if I have seemed
To take the tone of judgment,
For I've no wish to come between
This day and your enjoyment.
In this life of hardship and of earthly toil
There's a need for anything that frees us,
So I bid you pleasure and I bid you cheer
From a heathen and a pagan
On the side of the rebel Jesus.
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