T'was 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 home did live.
I looked all about, A strange sight I did see,
No tinsel, no presents, Not even a tree.
No stocking by the 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.
His face was so gentle, The room in such disorder,
Not how I pictured, A veteran 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 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.'