The holy infant

Mary stood at the manger-side

With her elbows on the rim;

He smiled the whimsical sweet smile

That shamed the cherubim,

Then straight-way toss'd His little legs,

The hay-pricks tickled Him.

Mary laugh'd and bent down low

Mary, bless'd of God's grace!

He curl'd His little pink toes up

And gurgled in her face:

Then pull'd her hair right sturdily

In that calm, holy place.

Ay, Jesus was a baby, too,

And pluck'd His mother's hair.

She loved Him much more thus, I ween,

Than as a King anywhere.