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 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, one 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 just read?
Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?
I realized the families I saw this night,
Owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight.
Soon 'round the world, the children would play,
And grown-ups would
Celebrate a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,
Because of the soldiers, like this 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 hear a rough voice,
"Santa don't cry, this is my choice,
I fight for freedom and ask for no 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 nights chill.
I didn't want to leave on the 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 and all is secure.
"One look at my watch, and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend, and to you a good night.
