Oh, little town of Bethlehem,
how still we see thee lie.
No workers' feet
fill empty streets;
no smokestacks cloud the skies.

Through foreign competition
and greedy corporate gains,
a few jobs lost,
well that's the cost.
We'll lock the gates with chains.

Oh, little town of Bethlehem,
no presents under trees.
No Christmas feast,
you've lost your lease.
You're left outside to freeze.

Please think us not uncaring
when of your plight we hear.
We just get annoyed
with the unemployed;
it ruins our holiday cheer.