Tinsel halos, paper wings,
Things that burn too easily,
Angels in the Christmas play,
Twelve began to sing.
Lauren wasn't looking, and her
Gown went up in flames, in flames.
She screamed, and she fell,
And she pulled us all down,
And the fire began to rage.
The curtains rang down.
The mothers rushed the stage,
But helpless, the angels burned
As the nuns tried to beat out
The flames with their bare hands.
And I shrilled,
And I hurt,
And I burned,
And I died.
The twelve of us died on the stage.
At the St. Francis Bethlehem Play.
Mary, Mary, Wilhemina,
Josephina, Margeret,
Olivia, Celia,
Colleta, Irene, Mary, Mary.
Bernadina was my Christian name but
My mama always called me
Her Bird, her Birdie Girl.
Sister Theotima lost both her hands,
Because the burns had been so deep.
2000 mourners bore twelve wooden boxes
To church on Christmas Eve.
The priests intoned, and the fathers wept
With guilt and grief,
And the mothers rocked with empty arms
In shock and disbelief.
And I cried for my family.
They couldn't see
The twelve of us prayed to be saved.
At the St. Francis Bethlehem Play.
Christmas angels dance in rings,
The jump the stones with tattered wings.
And its twenty years beneath the trees
But it's not the same for me.
The years drag by, and less and less
I see the ones I love.
They mumble their prayers
As I stumble and stare
At what those years have done.
The baby of my family
Has two little girls of his own.
New faces I don't recognize,
They live where I belong.
And I knew
What I'd lost,
What was mine,
What was gone.
The twelve of us died on the stage,
The twelve of us prayed to be saved,
The twelve of us lay in our graves.
The St. Francis Bethlehem Play.
Tinsel halos, paper wings,
It's all that has been left for me.
Eternity beneath the trees,
But it's not the same for me.
Mary, Mary, Wilhemina,
Josephina, Margeret,
Olivia, Celia,
Colleta, Irene, Mary, Mary.
Bernadina was my Christian name but
My mama always called me
Her Bird, her Birdie Girl.

KORREKTUREN ÃœBERMITTELN