| It was not a silent night
|
| there was blood on the ground
|
| you could hear a woman cry
|
| in the alleway that night
|
| on the streets of Davids town
|
| And the stable was not clean
|
| And the cobblestones were cold
|
| Little mary full of grace
|
| With the tears upon her face
|
| Had no Mothers hand to hold
|
| It was a labor of pain
|
| It was a cold sky above
|
| but for the girl on the ground in the dark
|
| Every beat of her beautiful heart
|
| was a labor of love
|
| Nobel Joseph by her side
|
| calloused hands, and weary eyes
|
| there were no midwives to be found
|
| in the streets of davids town
|
| in the middle of the night
|
| so he held her abd he prayed
|
| shafts of moonlight on his face
|
| but the baby in the womb
|
| he was the maker of the moon
|
| he was the author of the faith
|
| that could make the mountains move
|
| oohhh
|
| it was a labor of pain
|
| it was a cold sky above
|
| but for the ground in the dark
|
| every beat of her beautiful heart
|
| it was a labor of love
|
| little mary full of grace
|
| with the tears upon her face
|
| was a labor of love
|
| It was not a silent night
|
| on the streets of Davids town |