'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 stockings 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 sobering thought came through my mind.
For this house was different, it was dark and dreary,
I found the home of a soldier, once I saw 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 in a poncho, the floor for a bed?
I realized the families that I saw this night,
Owed their lives to these soldiers so 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 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 soft voice,
"Santa, don't cry, this life is my choice;
I fight for freedom, I don't ask for much 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, 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, all is secure."
One look at my watch and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend and to all a Good Night.