Han spør høflig om det er gløgg og julegrøt å få!
Du kan ikke kalle ham from, men han vet å føre seg,
og følger de vises eksempel når de vise viser vei.
Når de kneler i høyet, faller også han på kne
«Gud velsigne Norge», hører du ham be!
Ola Nordmann i Betlehem har funnet sin julepalme
og snufser mens han synger sin nordnorske julesalme.
Han spiser for mye, øder sine penger og gir til dem som ber
Han gleder seg som barnet når han fram mot julen ser
Og om hans hjem er en hytte, leilighet, eller slott
Så takker han Vårherre for alt hva han har fått!
Ola Nordmann i Betlehem savner lukt av pinnekjøtt
Men nå er han i byen der hvor frelseren ble født.
I tre nøtter ser han askepott, og hører sølvguttenes sang
og tenker at på denne dag er veien hjem til Norge lang.
og tenker at på denne dag er veien hjem til Norge lang.
Men hans pil’grims-drøm er oppfylt, gleden den er stor
for han ser stjerna over taket der hu jordmor Matja bor!
Ola Nordmann i Betlehem trodde han var en stødig mann,
men røres fort til tårer den første jul i et fremmed land.
Et lommetørkle redder ham, han blåser nesa hardt.
Det er uhøflig å fortelle ham at han er en smule sart!
«Jeg er ikke rel’giøs» forsøker han å si.
«En ‘julekveldsløgn’!» tenker nå vi.
Rule Brittania
The Britisher at Bethlehem still wears his bowler hat,
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| 1999 - page 40 |
And asks politely for some tea, with muffins and all that!
You would not call him pious, but he knows how things should be;
He lays his rolled umbrella down and drops upon his knee
With wiser men upon the hay.
`God save the Queen' — you'll hear him pray!
The Britisher at Bethlehem his carols loves to sing,
And with the Sally Army band he greets the infant King.
He eats too much, he spends too much, he gives too much away,
With all the glee of childhood counts the hours till Christmas Day:
And be he Irish, Welsh or Scot,
He thanks the Lord for what he's got!
The Britisher at Bethlehem can hear the abbey bell
Reminding him it's Christmas, whilst Big Ben will hourly tell
That politics and parliaments have but the briefest day,
And Downing Street will call upon its countrymen to pray!
Then Labour, Tory, Democrat
Will bow his head and doff his hat!
The Britisher at Bethlehem, if taken by surprise, eves:
Is found to be quite moved, though he'll say, 'Smoke gets in your eyes!’
And fumble for his handkerchief and loudly blow his nose.
It's not polite to tell him that his deep emotion shows!
'I'm not religious, friend,' he'll say.
But it's a lie on Christmas Day!
You would not call him pious, but he knows how things should be;
He lays his rolled umbrella down and drops upon his knee
With wiser men upon the hay.
`God save the Queen' — you'll hear him pray!
The Britisher at Bethlehem his carols loves to sing,
And with the Sally Army band he greets the infant King.
He eats too much, he spends too much, he gives too much away,
With all the glee of childhood counts the hours till Christmas Day:
And be he Irish, Welsh or Scot,
He thanks the Lord for what he's got!
The Britisher at Bethlehem can hear the abbey bell
Reminding him it's Christmas, whilst Big Ben will hourly tell
That politics and parliaments have but the briefest day,
And Downing Street will call upon its countrymen to pray!
Then Labour, Tory, Democrat
Will bow his head and doff his hat!
The Britisher at Bethlehem, if taken by surprise, eves:
Is found to be quite moved, though he'll say, 'Smoke gets in your eyes!’
And fumble for his handkerchief and loudly blow his nose.
It's not polite to tell him that his deep emotion shows!
'I'm not religious, friend,' he'll say.
But it's a lie on Christmas Day!
From the chapter: 'O LORD . . . It's Christmas'
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