[bad word]   For forty years our Nicolas, 
Our Prince of men, our shepherd and 
Our gentle guide, walked by our side.
We turned to him at birth and death, 
In time of famine and distress,
In all our grief, to bring relief.
He led us from the valleys to
The pleasant hills of grace, he fought 
To fold us in from mortal sin.
O! he was prodigal of love! 
spendthrift in devotion to
Us all and blessed as he caressed.
We keep his memory alive
In legends that our children and
Their children’s children treasure still.
captive at the heathen court 
Wept sorely all alone.
‘O Nicolas is here, my son! 
And he will bring you home!’
‘Fill, fill my sack with corn!’ he said: 
‘We die from lack of food!’
And from that single sack he fed 
hungry multitude.
Three daughters of a nobleman 
Were doomed to shameful sin,
Till our good Bishop ransomed them 
By throwing purses in.
The gates were barred, the black flag flew, 
Three men knelt by the block,
But Nicolas burst in like flame 
And stayed the axe’s shock.
‘O help us, good Nicolas! 
Our ship is full of foam!’
He walked across the waves to them 
And led them safely home.
He sat among the Bishops who 
Were summoned to Nicaea:
Then rising with the wrath of God 
Boxed Arius’s ear!
He threatened Constantine the Great 
With bell and book and ban:
Till Constantine confessed his sins 
Like [bad word] man.
Let the legends that we tell,
Praise him, with our prayers as well.
We keep his memory alive
In legends that our children and
Their children’s children treasure still.