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,
                      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 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 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 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 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 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."

Written By:
No name listed