Post by PassionateBB on Dec 16, 2004 23:59:20 GMT -5
Twas the night before Christmas, He lived all alone
In a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimney with presents to give,
And to see just who in this house did live.
I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by mantle, just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.
With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,
A sober thought
Came through my mind
For this house was different , It was dark and dreary
I found the home of a soldier, once I could see clearly.
The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone
Curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home.
The face was so gentle, the room in such disorder,
Not how I pictured a United States soldier.
Was this the hero of whom I’d just read?
Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?
I realized the families that I saw this night
Owed their lives to these soldiers
Who were willing to fight.
Soon round the world, the children would play
And grownups would celebrate
A bright Christmas Day.
They all enjoyed freedom
Each month of the year,
Because of the soldiers
Like the one lying here.
I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone,
On a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home.
The very sad thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees and started to cry.
The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice.
“Santa don’t cry, this life is my choice.
I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for more,
My life is my God, my country my corps.”
The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep.
I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours, so silent and still,
And we both shivered from the cold night’s chill.
I didn’t want to leave on that cold, dark night,
This guardian of honor so willing to fight.
Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure,
Whispered, “Carry on Santa, it’s Christmas Day,
All is secure.”
One look at my watch and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas, my friend
And to all a good night.
In a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimney with presents to give,
And to see just who in this house did live.
I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by mantle, just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.
With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,
A sober thought
Came through my mind
For this house was different , It was dark and dreary
I found the home of a soldier, once I could see clearly.
The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone
Curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home.
The face was so gentle, the room in such disorder,
Not how I pictured a United States soldier.
Was this the hero of whom I’d just read?
Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?
I realized the families that I saw this night
Owed their lives to these soldiers
Who were willing to fight.
Soon round the world, the children would play
And grownups would celebrate
A bright Christmas Day.
They all enjoyed freedom
Each month of the year,
Because of the soldiers
Like the one lying here.
I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone,
On a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home.
The very sad thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees and started to cry.
The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice.
“Santa don’t cry, this life is my choice.
I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for more,
My life is my God, my country my corps.”
The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep.
I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours, so silent and still,
And we both shivered from the cold night’s chill.
I didn’t want to leave on that cold, dark night,
This guardian of honor so willing to fight.
Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure,
Whispered, “Carry on Santa, it’s Christmas Day,
All is secure.”
One look at my watch and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas, my friend
And to all a good night.
