• harveyvickie

The Legend of the Robin Redbreast


On that first Christmas there blew a bitter chill

sheep bleated loudly on a faraway hill,

The fire in the stable had almost burned out

Joseph - deep in thought - had gone walkabout.

Mary looked at the Oxen with its clumsy form

‘Would you breathe on the embers – keep baby warm’

But the Oxen lay still on the floor in deep sleep

so did the donkey, the old horse and the sheep.

Poor Mary weakened as to Jesus she clings

when she suddenly heard a flapping of wings

A brown coloured Robin flew into the stall

it was flying nearby and had heard Mary’s call.

He flapped his wings o’er the dying fire

his puffing sounded like a heavenly choir,

He continued to fan, singing all the while

then collected twigs from a nearby log pile.

Tossed them onto the fire with no fear or dread

when a sudden surge burned his breast bright red,

He carried on his task till the fire burned bright

baby Jesus was warm for the rest of the night.

Mary thanked the Robin for all he had done

for keeping her warm as she swaddled her son,

She looked at his breast – burned by the flame

said ‘ From now on Robin Redbreast is your name.

A blessed reminder of your noble deed’

so from that day on there was born a new breed,

And to this day the redbreast covers his heart

prompts us to do good deeds before we part.

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