Mary stood at the manger-side
With her elbows on the rim;
He smiled the whimsical sweet smile
That shamed the cherubim,
Then straight-way toss’d His little legs,
The hay-pricks tickled Him.

Mary laugh’d and bent down low
Mary, bless’d of God’s grace!
He curl’d His little pink toes up
And gurgled in her face:
Then pull’d her hair right sturdily
In that calm[,] holy place.

Ay, Jesus was a baby, too,
And pluck’d His mother’s hair.
She loved Him much more thus, I ween,
Than as a King anywhere.