Revd wayne Foster Posted March 24, 2007 Report Share Posted March 24, 2007 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 house did live.I looked all about,a strange sight i did see,no tinsel, no present's,not even a tree.No stocking by the mantle,just boots filled with sand,on the wall hung picturesof far distant land's.With medals and badgesawards of all kindsa sober thoughtcame though my mind.For this house was different,it was dark and drearyi found the home of a soldier,once i could see clealy.The soldier lay sleeping,silent,alone,Curled up on the floorin this one-bedroom home.The face was so gentlethe room in such disorder,Not how i pictureda lone British soldier.was this the hero of whome i'd just read?Curled up on a ponchothe floor for a bed?I realised the familiesthat i saw this nightowed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight.Soon round the world the children would playand grown up's would celepratea bright christmas day.They all enjoyed freedomeach month of the yearbecause of the soldiers,like the one lying here.I couldn't help wonder how many aloneon a cold christmas evein 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 is my choice""i fight for freedomi don't ask for moremy life is my Godmy country, my corps"The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleepi couldn't control it'i continued to weep.i kept watch for hoursso silent and stilland we both sat and shiveredfrom the cold nights chill.I didn't want to leave,on that cold,dark nightThis guardian of honourso willing to fight.then the soldier rolled over,with a voice, soft and pure whispered"carry on santa its christmas day,all is secure."One look at my watch,and i know he was right:merry christmas my friend,and to all a good night. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Dorian Gray Posted March 24, 2007 Report Share Posted March 24, 2007 http://www.snopes.com/holidays/christmas/soldier.asp Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Revd wayne Foster Posted March 25, 2007 Author Report Share Posted March 25, 2007 http://www.snopes.com/holidays/christmas/soldier.aspThankyou for that, a mate of mine gave me a copy of the one i posted when he got back from iraq.So many of our lad's had read it but no one could find out who wrote it.I think it's the best thing i have ever read, i can't read it without a tear in my eye.It sort of sum's thing's up.What do you think? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Dorian Gray Posted March 25, 2007 Report Share Posted March 25, 2007 I have had my share of christmas' that are close to that home description. This year will be another like it. but likely a tent rather then a building. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
C.Harlan Posted April 23, 2007 Report Share Posted April 23, 2007 That is a very beautiful poem. I pray that all who fight for freedom come home safe. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Rev. Gregory Kensbock Posted July 21, 2008 Report Share Posted July 21, 2008 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 house did live.I looked all about,a strange sight i did see,no tinsel, no present's,not even a tree.No stocking by the mantle,just boots filled with sand,on the wall hung picturesof far distant land's.With medals and badgesawards of all kindsa sober thoughtcame though my mind.For this house was different,it was dark and drearyi found the home of a soldier,once i could see clealy.The soldier lay sleeping,silent,alone,Curled up on the floorin this one-bedroom home.The face was so gentlethe room in such disorder,Not how i pictureda lone British soldier.was this the hero of whome i'd just read?Curled up on a ponchothe floor for a bed?I realised the familiesthat i saw this nightowed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight.Soon round the world the children would playand grown up's would celepratea bright christmas day.They all enjoyed freedomeach month of the yearbecause of the soldiers,like the one lying here.I couldn't help wonder how many aloneon a cold christmas evein 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 is my choice""i fight for freedomi don't ask for moremy life is my Godmy country, my corps"The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleepi couldn't control it'i continued to weep.i kept watch for hoursso silent and stilland we both sat and shiveredfrom the cold nights chill.I didn't want to leave,on that cold,dark nightThis guardian of honourso willing to fight.then the soldier rolled over,with a voice, soft and pure whispered"carry on santa its christmas day,all is secure."One look at my watch,and i know he was right:merry christmas my friend,and to all a good night.Love that poem no matter how many times I read it. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Br. Josef Posted January 28, 2009 Report Share Posted January 28, 2009 Thanks. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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