Well, once upon a time, a baby was finally thrust reluctantly
into the world of mortal man at just that time. Shortly afterwards, a blackbird
took up position on the windowsill of the maternity ward and began to sing. It’s
unusual for blackbirds to sing in November, and the baby grew up to love their
song more than most things. He recognised that it was one of the pure, priceless
treasures that come absolutely free in the corrupt, conniving world of mortal
man.
On the other hand, he had very little time for shepherds and men in
funny hats, all of whom were conspicuous by their absence.
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