The falcon flew from dark to dark
Drew silver from the Northern Star
And headed for the crinkled hills,
The rivers, lakes and waterfalls
To find the source of light on earth
The source of light on earth.
And as three weary pilgrim kings
Looked up and saw his glittering wings
The falcon saw a darkened town
A stable glowing like a crown
And knew that he had found the truth
That he had found the truth.
The falcon hovered like a star
His wings spun out a spirit fire
That drew the kings inside the shed:
The child asleep in his straw bed
Was dreaming of a silver bird
Was dreaming of a bird.
His task now done, the falcon rose
A spark ablaze with joyful news;
He lit the stars, he lit the moon
Then vanished in the arc of sun
That dawned beyond the Southern Cross
Beyond the Southern Cross.
