Away in a manger, no bib for the babe,
the blobs of egg custard stuck to his sweet head,
the juice in the bottle drips onto the floor
and the messy wee rascal has started to roar.
The tears are now flowing, the tantrum's begun,
each toy Christmas present is tried one by one,
the rattle, the squeaker, the robot, the drum,
but the calming solution to the babe is his thumb.
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