Old but still appropriate:
'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 I Did See,
No Tinsel, No Presents, Not Even A Tree.
No Stocking By Mantle, Just Boots Filled With Sand,
And On The Wall Pictures, Of Far Distant Lands.
With Medals And Badges, Awards Of All Kinds,
A Sobering Thought Came To My Mind.
For This House Was Different, So Dark And So Dreary,
The Home Of A Soldier, Now 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 Thought Brought A Tear To My Eye,
I Dropped To My Knees And I 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 Rifle, My Country, My Corps."
The Soldier Rolled Over And Soon 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 Evening'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.
'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 I Did See,
No Tinsel, No Presents, Not Even A Tree.
No Stocking By Mantle, Just Boots Filled With Sand,
And On The Wall Pictures, Of Far Distant Lands.
With Medals And Badges, Awards Of All Kinds,
A Sobering Thought Came To My Mind.
For This House Was Different, So Dark And So Dreary,
The Home Of A Soldier, Now 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 Thought Brought A Tear To My Eye,
I Dropped To My Knees And I 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 Rifle, My Country, My Corps."
The Soldier Rolled Over And Soon 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 Evening'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.