Sometime after harvest of joy,
Facing a time of future fear.
When all that was gathered,
Wasn't enough, starvation near.

On the shortest day of the year,
Elders knew days longer grew.
Tough it out until the spring, when,
Everything was plentiful, new.

All northern people faced the same,
A long cold winter, sure as rain.
Whether by feast or yule log,
Singing a hearty, drunken refrain.

Christian conquerors wanted more,
Heathen pagans into their fold.
So, they conjured up a baby story,
Of innocence would never grow old.

Wrote heavenly lyrics,
To bawdy tavern songs.
Ensuring that even heathens,
Knew how to sing along.

Mixing tradition with the Jesus story,
Giving of gifts part of the glory.
Even Jewish shop owners joined in,
And conspicuous consumption began.