It was the night before Christmas
He lived all alone,
in a run down old Queenslander,
a rustic old home.
I had come down the chimney
with presents to give
To see just who,
in this dwelling did live.
I looked all around
A strange sight to see
No tinsel, no presents,
Not even a tree.
On the wall hung pictures
of far distant lands.
Medals 'n badges, awards of some kind;
A sobering thought came alive in my mind.
This house was different...
it was dark, it was dreary.
I was in the home of a Soldier,
I could see that quite clearly.
The Soldier lay sleeping,
Silent, Alone;
Curled up on the floor
In this rustic old home.
His face was so gentle,
The room in such disorder;
Not at all how I pictured
an Australian Soldier.
Was this the hero
of whom I'd just read;
Curled up on a poncho,
the floor for a bed?
Then I realised the other families
That I'd seen tonight,
Owed their lives to Soldiers
Who were willing to fight.
In the morning, round the world,
Children would play;
Grown-ups would celebrate
A bright Christmas Day.
But they all enjoy freedom
Each month of the year,
Because of Soldiers
Like the one lying here.
I couldn't help but wonder
How many lay alone,
On a cold Christmas Eve
In lands far from home.
The very thought
Brought a tear to my eyes;
I dropped to my knees,
I started to cry.
The Soldier awakened
I heard his rough voice,
"Don't cry for me Santa,
This life is MY choice.
I fight for my country,
I don't ask for more;
My service, my calling,
My family, My corps."
The Soldier rolled over,
and drifted to sleep.
But, I couldn't control it,
I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours,
So silent and still;
As both of us shivered
From the cold night's chill.
I didn't want to leave him
On that cold, dark night;
This guardian of honour,
So willing to fight.
Then, the Soldier rolled over,
In a voice rough, but sure,
He whispered, "Carry on Santa,
It's Christmas Day, all is secure."
One look at the time,
I saw it was late,
"Merry Christmas old Soldier,
and Good on ya mate!"
Heathen_AJ
