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The sky is cCothedin grey 

The sun has nought to say 

The weathers changed in a singCe day 

And winter is here to stay, 

The days grow shorter 

The nights grow Conger 

The sun is paCer 

And Jack frost is stronger, 

"But in the barren wintertime 
There comes a wondrous sight 

It is the star offtethCehem 
That sheds its warming Cight. 

It teCCs us of a CittCe ChiCd 

In a CowCy staCC Begotten 

It warms the cockCes of our hearts 

And winter is forgotten 



Said Marjorie Lear: 

"Oh dear, oh dear t 

I got a teddy again this year, 

Santa missed my Cetter I fear, " 

"WeCC, I was Cue fly, " 

saidTeter, her brother, 

"My sCedge was Broken; I needed another. 

TCCgive my thanks to father and mother. " 



"(good morning, " said their par ents 

as they came into the room, 

"you're both contented or so we assume, 

hut Marjorie, why this expression of utter g Co om?" 



"My Cetter never got to Santa," said Ma? j 

"The teddy s okay hut its not very Carge 

to use a big word its persif Cage." 



"That word!s not quite right 

'But we'CCdo better next year. 

Now do be quiet, just for a whiCe. 

lYho never gets presents on this speciaC day?... 

Let's give J-ClM our Cove; 

Cets kneeC and say: Thank you, Lord, 

for coming our way. " 



HONEY-MELON MOON 

Large, staring eyes, drawn cheeks, swollen belly and ema- 
ciated limbs told their story. The child was starving. She had 
wandered and wandered until she had reached a settlement. 
Now, she was furtively inspecting a compost heap, her head 
constantly bobbing up and down, side to side, like that of a 
bird, wary, and suspicious of every sound. The African sky 
was darkening rapidly. The child left the compost, and using 
her last strength, climbed a mimosa tree. Yesterday she had 
seen, not so far away, a pride of lions. 

The night was bitter cold. Stars now shone brightly in the 
heavens and there was a sickle moon. The child stared. The 
moon reminded her of a slice of honey melon, and her stom- 
ach reacted with spasmodic pains. Eventually she fell into an 
uneasy sleep. 

The barking of a dog awakened her. Frightened, she fell 
from the tree. She suffered no injury, nor did she feel pain, for 
the nerves in her body had long lost their sensitivity. A voice 
said, "Are you alright, my child?" 

The girl looked up and saw a middle-aged woman. The 
woman was clad in tropical dress and carried a white parasol. 

"Well, answer me, child. You've needn't be afraid." 

"Hungry," the child said, by way of an answer, and then be- 
gan to cry piteously. 

The woman hung her parasol on the tree and gently lifted 
the child, marvelling that she was still alive, for her body was 
more bones than flesh. 

"Where you take me?" 

"Home, my child." 

The girl began to struggle. "No, not good." 

"Hush, be still. And be quiet." 

The woman carried the child to her bungalow. To the child, 
the dwelling was enormous. 

A servant came to the woman. 

"N'gumbo," the woman said, handing him the child, "I want 
you to give her some soup. Not too much, she can eat some- 



thing more solid later, after she's been bathed. Then she can 
sleep in the spare room." 

"In the guest room, Memsahib?" 

"You heard what I said. Get on with it." 

"Ya, Memsahib." 

There was a hell of a row later that day. 

"A black sleeping in the guestroom?" shouted the woman's 
husband. 

"I will not have that word used in this house. The child is a 
human being. God created her, just as He created you and me. 
Have you forgotten what today is?" 

There was a long silence, then the man walked out of the liv- 
ing room and to the guest room. He opened the door quietly. 
The counterpane had fallen onto the floor and the man could 
see the sleeping child's pitiful condition. He closed the door 
softly and went back to his wife. 

"You win," he said. "Let's invite everyone this evening." 

"Oh darling, thank you." 

Outdoors that evening, two European people and a dozen 
Africans sang "Silent night" in front of an enormous, plastic 
Christmas tree. The child sat on the cool earth staring up at 
the tree, fascinated by the brightly burning candles. Things 
she had never seen in her life. 

Above and beyond the tree, the honey-melon moon hung in 
the sky, accompanied by a myriad of twinkling stars. 

This incident happened somewhere in Central Africa on the 
24 December last year. 



Oh CoveCy dawn, oh precious morn, 

this is the day on wfiicfi Jesus was born. 

JA heavenCy Trince in a manger for Corn. 

Jesus our Saviour was born, 

Jesus our Saviour was born. 

On this wondrous day we sfiouCd rejoice, 

Cet us aCCsing with harmonious voice. 

(give thanks to our Qodin 3-Ceaven above, 

JCe sent us J-fis Son with his Cove. 

sent us 3-Cis Son with his Cove. 



Ohrictmac faml 1 O Irtwolw Ra\A/n 

\^ I II iwn i iuw \-/\sii \ji . ^r iw y wiy uuii I I 



Anthony Paul Curtis 



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^{/ Oh love - ly dawn, oh pre -cious morn, 
On this won-drous day we should re - joice, 



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Santa 

The children were puzzled, earlier in the evening they had 
been listening to their parents telling them how Santa had to 
climb down chimneys to deliver the Christmas presents. Now 
they were tucked in their beds, and Peter, who was older than 
his sister Alice, and logically (so he claimed) more intelligent, 
said he wasn't quite sure how anyone could climb down a 
chimney, and Alice told him to shut up because she was think- 
ing hard. 

"You're taking your time," said Peter after a long while. 

"Of course I am," retorted Alice, "I don't want to jump to 
wrong conclusions. Anyhow, I've decided that what Mummy 
and Daddy say about Santa is nonsense." 

"What makes you think it's nonsense?" Peter asked. 

"Well, from what I know of Santa, he's supposed to have a 
snowy white beard and hair, and wears a bright red coat with 
white lining. Can you really imagine him clambering down 
sooty chimneys dressed like that?" 

Her brother sighed, "Oh dear, you don't really think that's the 
real Santa, do you? I mean, not like those dressed-up people 
who hand out cheap toys in department Stores? They're no more 
Santas than I'm Donald Duck." 

"So I was right. Santa Claus is just a crafty idea to make peo- 
ple buy things." 

"I don't care what you say, I believe in him." 

"And I don't." 

"But Mummy said if we don't believe in him, we won't believe 
in anything." 

"I know," said Alice, "but it's awfully difficult believing in 
someone you can't see." 

Then without warning, Peter sprang out of bed. 

"Where are you going?" asked his sister. 

"I'm going to settle this once and for all. He's supposed to 
bring the presents this evening, isn't he? I'm going down to 
the dining room and keep a look out for him. If he does come, 
I'll see him. And then you'll have to believe in him." 

8 



"Ha!" exclaimed Alice, "You won't be able to stay awake. I 
know you. In half an hour you'll be snoring your head off. But 
go on, at least I won't have to stuff my ears with cotton wool." 

Peter covered his pyjamas with a thick woollen pullover and 
jeans and crept out of the bedroom. 

Early next morning his father found him lying fast asleep on 
the carpet in the dining room. He lifted the boy gently and car- 
ried him to bed, taking care not to wake Alice. Then he went 
downstairs again and helped his wife to arrange the presents 
beneath the gaily decorated Christmas tree. 

Peter woke to the sound of his sister's voice. 

"Peter... Peter? I knew you couldn't stay awake." 

"Oh shut up," said Peter, his voice hoarse from sleep. "I did 
stay awake until it was almost daylight." He knew it was a lie, 
but he was unable to admit that he had failed in his quest. 

"Did you see him?" asked Alice. 

"No, I didn't," said Peter, his voice rather loud. 

"So that's it." said Alice. 

"What do you mean, that's it?" 

"I don't believe in Santa." 

"Well I do" said Peter "and I'll tell you why. You agree that 
the Santas we see in the streets and department Stores at 
Christmas -time are not genuine?" Alice nodded. "Well, I believe 
that the real Santa delivers the presents not dressed in a 
bright red coat and snowy white whiskers, but disguised as 
a chimney sweep. And that's why we never see him, because 
he's always covered with soot." 

"But we don't have a chimney." 

"What difference does that make?" said Peter. "Santa's been 
doing it for thousands of years, and when someone's that 
old, they're not going to change their ways so easily, chim- 
neys or no chimneys." 

"All right," said Alice, getting out of bed, "but as soon as I've 
washed and dressed I'm going to ask Mummy who really 
brings the presents." 

"You know what the answer will be," warned Peter. 

"Yes, I know" sighed Alice. "Santa." 



Later, Alice said: "Now I know he doesn't exist." 

"How?" asked Peter. 

"Well, in November I wrote to him asking for a new pair of 
roller skates, and all I got today was an over-sized Teddy 
Bear." 

"You wrote to Santa Claus?" 

"Yes." 

"I thought you said you didn't believe in him." 

"I thought I'd give it a try," said Alice. 

"You're kidding me. Where did you send the letter to?" 

"The North Pole of course." 

"Why does everyone think that Santa lives at the North 
Pole?" 

"Because of the reindeers, silly." 

"All right, but what's the address?" 

"I've no idea, but I'm certain that he's the only person able to 
stand the cold out there. The postman wouldn't have any dif- 
ficulty finding him." 

"And where did you get the postage stamp from?" 

"I didn't." 

"Are you telling me you posted the letter without a 
stamp?" 

"Yes." 

"Well! All I can say is I feel sorry for Santa. If all the kids 

send him unstamped letters it must cost him lots of 

money." 

"I don't know about that," said Alice, who was not particu- 
larly interested in financial matters, "All I know is I didn't get 
what I wanted for Christmas." 

Peter thought hard for a moment, then said: "Well, either 
Santa didn't get your letter, he couldn't read your writing, or he 
simply made a mistake. After all, he's only human, isn't he?" 



10 



Sound the trumpets Beat the drums 

for our Lord Jesus comes 

"Ring the Beds sing songs of praise 

be joy fuC through these Advent days. 

VCay thefiddCe bCow the horn 

for our Lord Jesus is horn 

tins eC the tree and cut the hody 

Cight up the Cights its time to bejody. 

Never forget 'whose birthday it was, 

who came to the worCdto suffer because 

we sinners are heCpCess and go easiCy astray, 

and Jesus 3-(e bCedour sins away. 



11 



Cfiristmastide fias Begun bCes sings for us aCC, 
Marys cfiiCdQods own son was born in a staCC, 
Cetus rejoice and sing our praise 
on this fioCy Day of days, 
on this fioCy Day of days. 

lYise men come, from the east, offerings bring, 
sweet incense, goCd and myrrfi for the new King, 
Cetus be tfiankfuCfor that day, 
when our Saviour came to stay, 
when our Saviour came to stay. 



12 



Shepherds in thefieCds one nig fit 

heheCda wondrous sight: 

angeCs from tfeaven on high, 

their robes shining Bright 

Our dear Lord was horn this day, 

(give thanks to Qodon high, 

Let us sing, praise the King, 

horn in 'BethCehem. 

Christ came to save us aCC, 
horn to hear us when we caCC, 

cad on 3{im to heCp us he 
Christian j) eapCe Civing free. 



13 



JoCCow the donkey to 'BethCehem 

it Bears a precious CoacQ 

Mary and Joseph are on their way, 

seeking a humbCe abode. 
Mya t Mya seeking a humbCe abode. 

JCear the donkey t its joyous caCC 

^Watching the scene in the staCC. 

Jor there was horn on that wonderfuCmorn 

JA ChiCdin a manger for Corn. 

My a, My a, J4. ChiCdin a manger for Corn. 

Now gives the donkey its proudest Bray 

Cauding the 'Babe on the hay, 
Cauding the Christ chiCdfor that was J-Ce. 

Jesus was born today. 
Mya t Mya t MidJ-Ce came here to stay. 



14 



Church Bells Ring 

Christmas carol for mezzo-soprano Anthony Paul Curtis 



andante grazioso 



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17 



A CHRISTMAS PRESENT 

"Put your hand out," said Patrick. 

Linda did so and something prickly brushed her band. 

'What is it?" she asked, puzzled. 

'Guess." 

'Oh," she exclaimed. "Is it a plant?" 

'Yes," said Patrick 

'But what's that jingling sound?" 

'Can't you guess?" 

'Is it - no - it can't be..." 

'Yes, it is." 

Linda was silent for a moment. 

'Is it Christmas? How long have I been out?" 

'Almost three weeks," said Patrick.. "You were in a coma." 

'Three weeks? Oh, it seems like yesterday... I was..." 

She shuddered, and Patrick said, "Try not to think of it now." 

Patrick placed the small, decorated plastic tree on the locker 
beside the bed. He leaned over slowly and kissed his wife gen- 
tly on the cheek. 

"Oh, Patrick," she said, "Will I ever be able to see again?" 

"I don't know, darling. We'll have to wait. The doctors are do- 
ing all they can." 

A nurse came to the bed and said to Patrick, "You must go 
now, we don't want to over-tire your wife, do we?" 

"See you the day after tomorrow, darling," said Patrick as he 
turned to go. 

While the nurse was helping her to wash, Linda thought of 
the accident. She had been driving serenely on her way to the 
Office, when a lorry in front of her had stopped without warn- 
ing. Its doors had swung open and a large bale of paper had 
sprung out onto the road. Linda swerved, a totally reflex ac- 
tion, and she had been rammed by another car. Now, three 
weeks later, she realised that she was blind. 



18 



"Have three weeks really gone by?" asked Linda, and the 
nurse said, "Yes, but don't you worry, you're back with us 
again, aren't you?" 

"But I can't see." The words were plaintive, with a hint of 
frustration. 

"I know," said the nurse. "It is not nice, but tell you what, try 
to see in your mind's eye. Use your imagination. I'm sure you 
have plenty of that. Things won't be quite so hard for you 
then." 

The next day was Christmas Eve, and the nurses visited the 
wards carrying lighted candles and singing Christmas carols. 
A nurse stood beside Linda's bed and described the scene. 
The ward was decorated with paper-chains of various colours. 
Over the door was a wooden crucifix, rather modern in style, 
and in one corner of the ward stood a large Christmas tree, 
adorned with tinsel, trinkets, and illuminated with electric 
lights in the form of candles. Mrs. Murgitson, the nurse ex- 
plained, was in the bed opposite Linda, and wearing a Father 
Christmas hat and looked very funny indeed. 

Linda remembered what the nurse had said the yesterday, 
and was certain that she could "see" clearly in her mind's eye 
everything that was being described. 

When Patrick visited her on Christmas morning, he said 
brightly, "Hello, darling, I've brought someone with me." 

"Is it mother-in-law?" asked Linda, apprehensively. 

"No," said Patrick laughing. "It's Professor Morn. He's here 
specially. Actually gave up his holiday. He's got good news for 
you." 

"Yes," said Professor Morn, whose voice sounded rather like 
that of a grizzly bear, "We are pretty certain that you will 
eventually regain your eyesight. It will take time, of course, but 
we are confident that our findings leave no room for error." 

Patrick took Linda in his arms and said, with much emotion, 
"Merry Christmas, darling. Merry Christmas to everyone." 

And all the people in the ward fervently echoed his words. 



19 



JABove a staCCin 'BethCehem 

There shone a BriCCiant star 

It drew the shepherds from their fieCds 

JAndwise men from afar. 

The wise men Brought their offerings 

The shepherds Brought their sheep 

There was a Bond Between them aCC, 

Their feedngs strong and deep. 

They found a mother and her chiCd 
JAs the AngeC had dec Cared 

And there was Joseph standing By 
3-Cis happiness fuCC shared 

They kneCt in wonder at the sight 

Of Jesus where he Cay, 

Of Mary's face so proud and Bright, 

On that first Christmas day. 



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'texts and Music © 
Anthony TauC Curtis 2009 



29