The Three Dowries Poem by Richard Burke

It was in Myra, Asia Minor,
That St. Nicolas made his home;
He was the Bishop there,
A thousand miles from Rome.
The good man had been orphaned,
At the tender age of ten,
And raised by his uncle,
Myra's Bishop way back then.

Having grown up with the Abbey monks,
It's easily explained,
Why when Nicholas came of age,
He chose to be ordained.
He was devoted all through life,
To helping the sick and poor,
Performing acts of kindness,
Healing miracles and much more.

He was left a large inheritance,
That he was free to spend,
But he gave it all to others,
Their sufferings to lessen or to end.
But he only gave in secret,
Too modest to be revealed;
If donee sought his donor,
Nicolas' lips stayed tightly sealed.

He was credited with calming seas,
And raising children from the dead,
And securing tons of rationed wheat,
So starving townsfolk could be fed.
But of all his saintly acts,
He's best remembered for,
Giving gifts in secret,
Now part of Christmas lore.

It started with a wealthy man,
Who Satan's plotting rendered poor;
No money left for dowries,
For three daughters he adored;
No dowries meant no husbands,
And lives of servitude or sin;
The father knew it was his fault,
Now fraught with deep chagrin.

Nicolas took pity,
On the daughters and their dad,
And knew that he could save them all,
With three bags of gold he had;
That night he found their window open,
And tossed the first bag through,
The second night he came again,
And in went gold bag two.

Now the father was determined
To solve this mystery,
Who is providing all these gifts,
To my daughters and to me?
He hid below the window's sill,
So he could wait and see.

But the third bag went down the chimney,
(Nicholas had climbed there on the sly,)
And landed in a stocking,
Hung by the fireplace to dry.