he was her man she was his wife and late one winter night he knelt by her as she gave birth but it wasn t his child it wasn t his child yet still he took him as his own and as he watched him grow it brought him joy but it wasn t his child it wasn t his child but like a father he was strong and kind and good and i believe he did his best it wasn t easy for him but he did all he could his son was different from the rest it wasn t his child it wasn t his child and when the boy became a man he took his father s hand and soon the world would all know why it wasn t his child it wasn t his child but like a father he was strong and kind and good and i believe he did his best it wasn t easy for him but he did all he could he grew up with his hands in wood and he died with his hands in wood he was god s child he was god s child he was her man she was his wife and late one winter night he knelt by her as she gave birth but it wasn t his child it was god s child