There was a kid called Joseph,
He’d been dealt a bad hand:
Was born poor and a bastard,
But grew up to be a preacher,
Made a new friend called Franz.
Joe went over to Franz house,
Said: see this poem I once wrote.
I feel like it’s got something,
Can you please put some music
To my words?
Looking down at the paper
And the title read: Silent Night
The first time they performed it
It was Christmas Eve.
They sang it together,
Franz played the guitar –
I can see them before me.
And this big shot organ builder
Fell in love with the song,
Brought it back to his home town
Where some folk singers heard it
And they spread it around.
Slightly changed each time it was sung, was Silent Night.
When I’m down I just think about it –
How they must have felt when they performed it,
If the choir cried when they sang it,
If anyone in the church that day said –
Well I like the older stuff better,
They should do more upbeat tunes
It could have been a day like any other day,
When Joseph would be preachin’ and Franz would be playin’.
9 out of 10 days are slightly disappointing,
But on the tenth, you see that light beckoning.
They had no idea that Silent Night would be Silent Night
Sing it with me.
Let your voice carry from all those miles away.
If you sing loud enough, my microphone might record you,
It might record you.
Silent night, holy night
Silent night, holy night
Silent night, holy night
Silent night, holy night