Sunday, 18 December 2011

The Innkeeper's Wife

Me and my husband, my old man, Cain

Are in the hospitality game

Now the problem with being an innkeeper’s wife

Is I’m always so busy; no time for a life!

Some clients are rude, arrogant, snappy

But you’ve got to keep smiling, make sure they’re happy



This time last year they came for the tax

Booking up rooms by email and fax

Bethlehem-bound, for the emperor’s census -

Rich men and poor men (and good king Wenceslas)

Too many people!  Not enough room

They camped in my kitchen.  Boy, did I fume!



They huddled in wardrobes, slept in the bath

I didn’t know whether to cry or to laugh

We found pants in the parlour, dungarees on the door

Wigs in the window and frocks on the floor

Even my husband was tearing his hair

We couldn’t’ sit down; no empty chairs!



He bolted the door, turned the key in the lock

Gave a sigh of relief but then came a knock

A desperate rapping of knuckles on wood

“Please let us in; we need shelter and food.”

“Send them away!” I muttered to Cain

“All right,” he agreed, “but I need to explain.”



When he opened the door, the man looked so weary

And as for the woman, she was breathless and teary

My eyes fell upon her hand on her girth

I knew with one glance she was due to give birth

“Sorry,” said Cain, “But we’re full up to bursting.”

“We’re not!” I said brightly (sometimes I could curse ‘im)



“She can’t carry on.  The poor girl’s not able

We’ll find her a room; it’s warm in the stable.”

Cain took them round to the animal quarters

I followed with towels and jugs of hot water

Back in the house we paced up and down

Anxiously waiting - a sign or a sound



And then we heard it – a baby’s first cry

We praised God in Heaven and, there in the sky

A star had appeared, so big and so bright

The darkness shot through with its wonderful light

The angels were singing – what a glorious sound

And shepherds came flocking from miles around


 
The babe, they called Jesus, (“God with us,” they said)

As they laid him so gently on an improvised bed

I’ll never forget the peace in my heart

The sense that this moment was only the start

Of a new way being, a new way of life

........It’s a privilege being an innkeeper’s wife








2 comments:

  1. Aaaaw, that's nice and Christmassey.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Very clever. Happy Christmas, Anna !

    ReplyDelete