from the eighth century Irish
When Jesus, son of living God,

  Was still a child, five years of age,

He played in twelve small water puddles

  That he blessed and fenced around with clay.
And Jesus made twelve little bird-shapes –

  The ones called passeres;

Out of the smooth clay he modelled

  Twelve sparrows on a Sabbath day.
Then comes a Jew who cautions Jesus,

  Son of the almighty God,

And takes him by the hand to Joseph,

  To have him chide his foster child.
“Give your son a scolding, Joseph,

  Caution him for his misdeeds.

On the Sabbath he has fashioned

  Clay images of birds.”
Then Jesus claps his hands together.

  They hear his child-voice give a shout.

Before their eyes the prince of graces

  Scares a flock of sparrows up.
They hear him speak the clear small words.

  The pure lips of Jesus move:

“So that you may know who made you

  Fly home now. Away! Be off!”
A witness spread the news: a story

  Everybody marvelled at.

They listened and could hear distinctly

  The little cries of birds in flight.