The [bad word] child will blow his horn
Will blast the sky till it’s reborn
With Gabriel’s power and Satchmo’s grace
He will surprise the human race

The [bad word] he will use to blow
Is being fashioned out of fire
The mouthpiece is a glowing coal
The bell a burst of wild desire

The [bad word] child will riff on love
Thelonious notes from up above
He’ll improvise a [bad word]  [bad word] by a different [bad word] 

The [bad word] child will banquet here
Until the lost are [bad word] found
thousand days, a thousand years
Nobody knows for sure how long

The rich forget about their gold
The meek and mild are strangely bold
lion lies beside a lamb
And licks a murderer’s outstretched hand

The [bad word] child will lift a glass
His bride now leaning in at last
His final aim to fill with joy
The earth that man all but destroyed