A Different Night Before Christmas
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 home did live. I looked all about, a strange sight did I 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 house of a soldier, once I could see clearly. The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone, curled upon 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 just read? Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed? I realized the families I saw on this night, owed their lives to these soldiers, who were willing to fight. Soon round the world the childen 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 started 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. 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!
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