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A New Christmas Song
Miracle on 23rd Street
By BrotherLarry
While strolling on 23rd Street on the 24th
I heard a flautist flauting on his flute.
His suit, it was of red, and his hat was red with fur
I couldn't quite catch the color of his boot.
And then I saw him, suddenly, take his little flute
He pounded some old lady passing by.
Her purse, he ripped it open; her wallet now was his
I couldn't bear it, so I sang a song on high:
Why can't we be peaceful this Christmas?
Why can't the angels see?
Where is the Heavenly Host to help this woman
And stop this flautist creep?
Why can't the Baby Jesus throw some frankincense and myrrh
To stop the evil cackling of this brute who's robbing her?
CHORUS:
And then I saw a miracle on 23rd street that day:
I saw a fellow out of nowhere
Take the lady's purse away.
He took it from the flautist and then gently as could be
He gave the woman back her purse and stuff.
Yes, he gave the woman back her purse and stuff
When the Yuletide season comes each year
I hope you'll always think
About this evil flautist who had too much to drink
And never beat a stranger up with a musical instrument
But rather be the instrument of peace - the peace that Jesus sent.
Please do not give ME the glory for this song but rather direct it to God as I am merely His vessel that He has chosen to speak His Words. He, not I, makes the verses flow in perfect time. He, not I, conveys the message in such a way that the dumbest idiot could understand it and yet the most intelligent man (like me) also feels proud to sing the words. Oh, what a Savior we serve. I hope this has blessed you and yours as much as I welcome the blessing of writing the words as God utters them to me.
By BrotherLarry
While strolling on 23rd Street on the 24th
I heard a flautist flauting on his flute.
His suit, it was of red, and his hat was red with fur
I couldn't quite catch the color of his boot.
And then I saw him, suddenly, take his little flute
He pounded some old lady passing by.
Her purse, he ripped it open; her wallet now was his
I couldn't bear it, so I sang a song on high:
Why can't we be peaceful this Christmas?
Why can't the angels see?
Where is the Heavenly Host to help this woman
And stop this flautist creep?
Why can't the Baby Jesus throw some frankincense and myrrh
To stop the evil cackling of this brute who's robbing her?
CHORUS:
And then I saw a miracle on 23rd street that day:
I saw a fellow out of nowhere
Take the lady's purse away.
He took it from the flautist and then gently as could be
He gave the woman back her purse and stuff.
Yes, he gave the woman back her purse and stuff
When the Yuletide season comes each year
I hope you'll always think
About this evil flautist who had too much to drink
And never beat a stranger up with a musical instrument
But rather be the instrument of peace - the peace that Jesus sent.
Please do not give ME the glory for this song but rather direct it to God as I am merely His vessel that He has chosen to speak His Words. He, not I, makes the verses flow in perfect time. He, not I, conveys the message in such a way that the dumbest idiot could understand it and yet the most intelligent man (like me) also feels proud to sing the words. Oh, what a Savior we serve. I hope this has blessed you and yours as much as I welcome the blessing of writing the words as God utters them to me.
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