O come all ye fickle, weary and worn. O come let us adore him like the damn fools we are hanging on if by a thread to the tale of a girl and the god and the baby they sang into the whole dear world. ~ O come all ye citizens of this turning scorn. O come let us sing though our eyes are tired of looking for his salvation. Let us raise our voices of that happy morn and groan him into the world one more time.