She rose with the sun, from beneath her weathered winter coat
And kicked away her bed of frozen twigs and soggy leaves
She tucked her tangled pigtails up into a tattered stocking cap
Her little hands brushed the mud from her sleeves.

She walked beside her mama through the doors of St. Paul's Mission
The only welcome she will know come this Christmas Eve.
She bowed her head and listened to the preacher give the blessing
He was reading from the good book, "If you ask you shall receive"
She whispered,

"Jesus I won't ask You for a Christmas tree
With shiny tinsel, silvery and gold
All I'll ask this Christmas is You find for mom and me
A friendly house to keep away the cold."

"Mama said You were like we are, You were poor as poor can be
And Mary made Your bed of hay, like mama does for me
You lived among the beggars, and for forty days went hungry
Folks would call You names or just pretend they didn't see.

You slept out in the desert like we're sleeping on the streets
So I believe You understand the things we really need.
I'm praying extra hard and being extra good, 'cause, Jesus,
I think that You're the only one who's listening to me."

[Chorus]

Copyright © 1992 Che-Rollin' Music (ASCAP)