'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.
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 A 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.
THE FACE WAS SO GENTLE,
THE ROOM IN DISORDER;
NOT HOW I PICTURED
A UNITED STATES SOLDIER.
WAS THIS THE HERO
OF WHO 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 THIS SOLDIER
WHO WAS WILLING TO FIGHT.
SOON 'ROUND THE WORLD
THE CHILDREN WOULD PLAY,
AND GROWNUPS WOULD CELEBRATE
A BRIGHT CHRISTMAS DAY.
THEY ALL ENJOY 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
AND WITH A VOICE, SOFT AND PURE,
WHISPERED, "CARRY ON, SANTA.
IT'S CHRISTMAS DAY, ALL'S SECURE."
ONE LOOK AT MY WATCH
AND I KNEW HE WAS RIGHT.
"MERRY CHRISTMAS, MY FRIEND,
AND TO ALL, A GOOD NIGHT."
This poem was written by a Marine stationed in Okinawa, Japan.
He makes the following request:
"Would you send this to as many people as you can? Christmas is coming soon and some credit is due to our U.S. service men and women for our being able to celebrate this and other holidays. Let's stop and think of our true heroes who have sacrificed their lives or parts of their lives so that we may enjoy our many freedoms."
I thought I would pass this on to a few of you and you can pass it as you see fit.
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 A 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.
THE FACE WAS SO GENTLE,
THE ROOM IN DISORDER;
NOT HOW I PICTURED
A UNITED STATES SOLDIER.
WAS THIS THE HERO
OF WHO 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 THIS SOLDIER
WHO WAS WILLING TO FIGHT.
SOON 'ROUND THE WORLD
THE CHILDREN WOULD PLAY,
AND GROWNUPS WOULD CELEBRATE
A BRIGHT CHRISTMAS DAY.
THEY ALL ENJOY 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
AND WITH A VOICE, SOFT AND PURE,
WHISPERED, "CARRY ON, SANTA.
IT'S CHRISTMAS DAY, ALL'S SECURE."
ONE LOOK AT MY WATCH
AND I KNEW HE WAS RIGHT.
"MERRY CHRISTMAS, MY FRIEND,
AND TO ALL, A GOOD NIGHT."
This poem was written by a Marine stationed in Okinawa, Japan.
He makes the following request:
"Would you send this to as many people as you can? Christmas is coming soon and some credit is due to our U.S. service men and women for our being able to celebrate this and other holidays. Let's stop and think of our true heroes who have sacrificed their lives or parts of their lives so that we may enjoy our many freedoms."
I thought I would pass this on to a few of you and you can pass it as you see fit.
