A CHRISTMAS POEM THAT SHUD ADORN EVERY XMAS CARD!

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#1
This is the content of an email I received; apologies if it is 'old hat' to some but i make no apologies for duplication. The author requested that it be forwarded to as many as possible;



ITS CHRISTMAS DAY ALL IS SECURE

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 THE 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 LONE BRITISH SOLDIER
WAS THIS THE HERO OF WHOM I'D JUST READ
CURLED UP ON A PONCHO THE FLOOR FOR A BED

I REALISED 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 ENJOY FREEDOM EACH MONTH OF THE YEAR
BECAUSE OF THE SOLDIERS LIKE THE ONE LYING HERE
I COULDN'T HELP WONDER HOW MANY ALONE
ON A COLD CHRISTMAS EVE IN A LAND FAR FROM HOME

THE VERY THOUGH 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 SAT AND SHIVERED FROM THE COLD NIGHTS CHILL
I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE ON THAT COLD DARK NIGHT
THIS GUARDIAN OF HONOUR SO 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 KNEW HE WAS RIGHT
'MERRY CHRISTMAS MY FRIEND AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT'
 
#3
Tom_of_Bedlam said:
For the love of god. Will the repetition of this maudlin doggrell never end?
I agree about the doggerel ... but (there's always a but) .. take a look at the 'Forces Poetry' site. Some of the poems on there, especially those from soldier's kids, should be required reading for every member of the useless Gobment!!!

http://www.forcespoetry.co.uk/about.asp

Hope this clicky linky thing works!!
 
#4
Tom_of_Bedlam said:
For the love of god. Will the repetition of this maudlin doggrell never end?
I intend to spend a few minutes blubbing manfully. Then, for shame, it will have to be the Mess revolver I fear.

Keep the upper lip stiff and leave this sort of stuff to the septics.
 

Legs

ADC
Book Reviewer
#5
Must we have this hundreds of times every time Winterval comes around? Please stop. It's been done so many times it just bores us all....
 

oldbaldy

LE
Moderator
#6
pagan_grail said:
This is the content of an email I received; apologies if it is 'old hat' to some but i make no apologies for duplication. The author requested that it be forwarded to as many as possible;
'
The author didn't.
http://www.snopes.com/holidays/christmas/soldier.asp

Anyway I far prefer this version:
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the trailer
Not a creature was stirrin' 'cept a redneck named Taylor.
His first name was Bubba, Joe was his middle,
And a-runnin' down his chin was a trickle of spittle.
His socks, they were hung by the chimney with care,
And therefore there was a foul stench in the air.

That Bubba got scared and rousted the boys.
There was Rufus, 12 Jim Bob was 11
Dud goin' on 10 Otis was 7.
John, George and Chucky Were 5,4, and 3:
The twins were both girls so they let them be.

They jumped in their overalls, no need for a shirt,
Threw a hat on each head, then turned with a jerk.
They ran to the gun rack that hung on the wall.
There were 17 shotguns they grabbed them all.

Bubba said to the young'uns, "now hesh up ya'll!
The last thing we wanna do is wake up yer Maw."
Maw was expecting and needed her sleep,
So out they crept out the door without making a peep.

They all looked around, and then they all spit.
The young'uns asked Bubba, "Paw, what is it?"
Bubba just stared he could not say a word.
This was just like all of The stories he'd heard.

It was Santy Claus on the roof, darn tootin'
But the boys didn't know they was about to start shootin'!
They aimed their shotguns and nearly made a mistake
That would have resulted in venison steak.
Bubba hollered out, "don't shoot, boys!"
That's Santy Claus And he's brought us some toys.

The dogs were a-barkin' and a-raisin' cain,
And Bubba whistled, and shouted, and called them by name.
"Down, Spot! shut up Bullet! quiet, Roscoe and Enos!
Git, Turnip and Tater and Sam and Bosco!"

"Git down from that porch! git down off that wall!
Quit shakin the trailer, or you'll make Santy fall!"
The dogs kept a-barkin' and wouldn't shut up,
And they trampled poor Pete Who was only a pup.

Santy opened his bag, And threw out some toys.
Bubba got most, but left a few for the boys.
Since the guns had been dropped he just might not die.

He jumped in his sleigh, told his reindeer to hurry.
The trailer started to wobble santa started to worry.
Just as the reindeer got into the air,
The trailer collapsed, but Bubba didn't care.

He was busy lookin' at all his new toys.
Then a thought hit him, and he said to the boys:
"Go check on yer Maw, make sure she's all right.
That roof fallin' on her could-a hurt just a might."

But Maw was OK, and the girls were too.
They fixed up the trailer it looked good as new.
And as for Bubba, he liked Old St. Nick,
But Santa thought Bubba was a pure-in-tee hick!

Bubba had a nice Christmas, and the boys did, too.
And the Taylors wish a Yee Haw Merry Christmas to you!!!
 
#7
This poem is very touching also

I had no Christmas spirit when I breathed a weary sigh, and looked
across the table where the bills were piled too high.
The laundry wasn't finished and the car I had to fix, My stocks were
down another point, the taffy's lost by six.

And so with only minutes till my kid's got home from school, I gave up on
the drudgery and grabbed a wooden stool.
The burdens that I carried were about all I could take, and so I flipped
the TV on to catch a little break.

I came upon a desert scene in shades of tan and rust, No snowflakes hung
upon the wind, just clouds of swirling dust.
And where the reindeer should have stood before a laden sleigh, eight
hummers ran a column right behind an M1A.

A group of boys walked past the tank, not one was past his teens, Their
eyes were hard as polished flint, their faces drawn and lean.
They walked the street in armor with their rifles shouldered tight,
their dearest wish for Christmas, just to have a silent night.

Other soldiers gathered, hunkered down against the wind, To share a
scrap of mail and dreams of going home again.
There wasn't much at all to put their lonely hearts at ease, They had no
Christmas turkey, just a pack of MRE's.

They didn't have a garland or a stocking I could see, They didn't need
an ornament-- they lacked a Christmas Tree.
They didn't have a present even though it was tradition, the only boxes
I could see were labeled "ammunition".

I felt a little tug and found my kid's now by my side, they asked me what it
was I feared, and why it was I cried.
I swept them up into my arms and held them oh so near and kissed them on
the forehead as I whispered in their ear.

There's nothing wrong, my little kid's, for safe we sleep tonight, our
heroes stand on foreign land to give us all the right, to worry about
the things in life that really mean nothing at all, instead of wondering
each day if we will be the next to fall.

They looked at me as children do and said it's always right, to thank the
ones who help us and perhaps that we should write.
And so we pushed aside the bills and sat to draft a note, to thank the
many far from home, and this is what we wrote,

God bless you all and keep you safe, and speed your way back home.
Remember that we love you so, and that you're not alone.
The gift you give, you share with all, a present every day, You give the
gift of Freedom and that we can't repay.
 

oldbaldy

LE
Moderator
#10
#13
Unlocked momentarily just so I can shout:

WILL THE SEPTIC'S SENTIMENTALLY BAD POETRY NEVER END!?

Now I have the pleasure of locking this again*

*though obviously not half as pleasureable as giving the author of this turgid crap a good shooeing.
 
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