A SOLDIERS CHRISTMAS

[broomy]

The Night Before Christmas

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 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 Young British 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 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 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 shivered,From the cold night's 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,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.'

This poem was written by a peace keeping soldier stationed
overseas. The following is his request, I think it is reasonable.


PLEASE. Would you do me the kind favour of sending this to as many
people as you can? Christmas will be coming soon and some credit
is due to our British service men and women for our being able to
celebrate these Festivities. Let's try in this small way to pay a tiny bit of what
we owe. Make People stop and think of our heroes, living and dead, who
sacrificed themselves for us.

[ELAINE]

Thanks Broomy...I could'nt do it myself

[bomber]

What a great poem Broomy, I will certainly pass it on

[ELAINE]

I e-mailed it to you Debbie ....!!!!!


So Broomy put it on for me :Action:

[shred]

Thank you for sharing this.

Garry

[bomber]

Elaine its only just come through along with another one do you want that one still posting ??

[ELAINE]

I'll leave it up to you deb's..

[Hawker Hurricane]

A truly wonderful poem, which brought I tear to my eye, I don't mind admitting. Thank you for sharing and a very big thank you to all the heroes who will spend the festive season away from their loved ones so we can enjoy it in peace and security. We are truly grateful for all that the heroes are doing on our behalf.

[ELAINE]

The person that sent me this poem, is a very dear friend of mine...

Her grandson was very very badly injured in Afghanistan...... He is making a slow recovery, but cant make out what all the fuss is about... !!!!!( His grandmother is devastated )

Good job we have got lads like that...!!!!!!

[Hawker Hurricane]

That's been my experience of wounded servicepeople I've met in the past. They just don't think they are anything special, and most are just thinking about trying to get as well as possible and see their old mates again. Thankfully, WE know how special each and every one of them are.

[bomber]

This has just been read out on KaShaw Radio

[tonyrod]

first class, :Action:
i will post on the man reg forum .