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When the Captain pushed our vessel away from the pier, to sail the path of Christmas,
tracking its origin and history, who but the wise could have known where it would lead,
such a story! Would we find true glory?
The wind picked up and the helmsman pointed the prow on a course to December land,
and soon we stood on its shifting sands.
However, most shocking, the research has shown,
how far off course the Christmas narrative had blown.
The Lord Jesus Christ nowhere was born in December.
This truth I would always remember, this truth I would keep whole and not dismember,
although all the worldís mouth with lies dissembles.
We sailed against the tide further upstream into December.
As we docked at the 25th pier, hearing the revelers and boisterous jeers,
maybe one too many beers beginning of a riotous bear.
What were they really celebrating? So many boar eating salivating.
We observed all the trappings, decorations, and traditions of saturnalia,
it was all about the pagan sun god inter alia, in full color regalia.
The research again showed that none of this had anything to do about the true Son of God
but was the reigning narrative of papal emperor gods.
Histories and times for political advantage long adjusted by their narratives and scribing dogs.
The Christmas story sold to us from childhood, is best understood,
as deceptions that lacked all bible hood,
and for years over our eyes had pulled religious hoods.
Telling us Jesus was the reason for the season, was nothing short of treason.
Of course, we rejected the rogue merchants demands of December,
to load our vessel with christmas ham, trees, and plastic devil santa clauses and reindeer.
They were strangers to the truth; it they would not bear.
Before us they could remand, we hoisted full sail for September land.
We traveled overland, the research showing the new year begins in September in the holy land,
and not in the dead of cold winter on Gregís calendar band.
We would sojourn in the holy land, as September started the year.
The deceptions of December we would not bear, with the truth we stepped up a few gears,
traveling and singing all of September, first month of the year,
through the holy land dear, beloved, and rare, following in the steps so dear.
We would weather the storm of reviling, ostracizing, and mocking,
and in our houses, we would hang not one stocking,
ignoring the calendar trained minds who were looking.
Besides, the research showed houses in the tropical sunlight were not built with chimneys,
so logged our good Captain Kimberley.
So putting an end to the santa chimney fakery, dousing the ovens of that bakery.
Our mid-east traveling group jettisoned the falsehoods in the December waters grim.
For the christmas narrative we lost all respect and viewed it dim,
a time of fables, tall tales, and narratives slick, shady and slim wrapped in tinselís glim.
A time of the sweetest jingles and hymns filling the minds of many to the brim,
blind to the truth, sinking beneath the narrative of Decemberís rim.
Many, their course would not tack and trim and it would then be too late if they met the reaper grim,
their beloved traditions of men leaving them out on a sawed limb,
having rejected eternal truth for lies and glitter in a lying thimble nimble.