THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
IN HONOR OF ALL OUR VETERANS AND CURRENT MILITARY PERSONNEL
It was the night before Christmas he lives all alone , They all enjoy freedom each month of the year,
In a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone. Because of soldiers like the one laying here,
I had come down the chimney with presents to give, I couldn’t help but wonder how many lay alone
And to see just who in this home did live. On a cold Christmas Eve in a land far away from home.
I looked all about a strange sight I did see, The very thought brought a tear to my eye,
No tinsel, no presents not even a tree, I dropped to my knees as I started to cry,
No stockings by the mantel, just boots filled with sand. The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice,
On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands. “Santa, don’t cry. This life is my choice,
He had medals and badges, awards of all kind, I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for more.
And a sober thought came through my mind. My life is my God, my Country, my Corps.”
For this house was different, it was dark and dreary, The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep,
I found the home of a soldier, once I could see clearly. I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep.
The soldier lay sleeping, silent; alone I kept watch for hours, so silent, so still,
Curled up on the floor of this one bedroom home and we both shivered from the night’s cold chill,
The face so gentle, the room in such disorder, I didn’t want to leave on that dark, cold night,
Was this the hero of whom I’d just read? This guardian of honor so willing to fight.
Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed? Then the soldier rolled over with a soft voice
and pure,
I realized the families that I saw that night Whispered, “Carry on Santa. It’s Christmas
Owed their lives to these soldiers who are willing All is secure.”
to fight. Soon around the world, the children would play
And grown-ups would celebrate a bright Christmas Day.
