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 the 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 off 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 and alone,
Curled up on the floor
Of 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 way
The children would play,
And grownups would celebrate
A bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed their freedom
Each month of the year,
Because of soldiers
Like the one laying 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 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.
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,
"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."

Author's Name Unknown