What if the Little Drummer Boy grew up
to be Big Drummer Man, a butcher perhaps,
with skins aplenty to manhandle across the tops
of barrels and pots and one precious little cup
that someone drank some special wine out of,
(Jesus maybe, yes, that’s who it was),
so that all along the Via Dolorosa,
every single, sorrowful step, there rose a
tattoo (the skin kind is the second definition,
thank you very much), a pummeled out
percussion code, spelling with every beat
not “inadequacy,” but “indignation,
causing Mary to nod to the beat and from
up high the grown-up baby smiled at him?
Not happy yet with the title. I considered these:
OK WHAT WISE GUY PUT A CROWN OF THORNS IN THE MANGER
WE CAN’T HELP SEEING A CROWN OF THORNS IN THE MANGER
ON THE HEAD OF THE BABY IN THE MANGER LIES A CROWN OF THORNS
HEY DRUMMER BOY I CAN SEE YOUR HOUSE FROM HERE
CHRISTMAS IS SALT, EASTER IS PEPPER
marniere 
I don’t know. I kinda get the impression he peeked at the Little Drummer Boy. In time, the Medium Drummer Teen probably wore out his drums. He was playing for coins his whole life. Then the Medium Drummer Teen just started doing ‘air drums’ around town, reminding everyone…. “I played my drum for him. Pa rum pum pum pum I played my best for him. Pa rum pum pum pum, Rum pum pum pum, Rum pum pum pum” Eventually, Big Drummer 20-Something just starts talking about “Startin’ that band!” and keeps raking in those air-drum coins. By the time he’s Big Drummer Man… he believes he’s an artist playing to the masses, but everyone just thinks he the village idiot and doesn’t want to deny the invisible drum and risk a full on psychotic break. They just smile and pay him coins to go away.
Ha! So he would stay in Beth. And after the crucifixion he would say”I totally knew that guy.”