Post by ECBS Clean Team on Nov 29, 2006 20:26:35 GMT -5
This gets me everytime I hear it on the radio with the Santa reading it 
"A Soldier's Silent Night"
'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,
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.
No Stocking From The Mantle,
Just Boots Filled With Sand,
On The Wall Hung Pictures
Of Far Distant Lands.
With Medals And Badges,
Awards Of Every Kind,
A Sobering Thought Came Alive In My Mind
This House Was Different,
It Was Dark, It Was Dreary,
I Have Found The Home Of A Soldier,
I Can See That Most Clearly.
The Soldier Lay Sleeping,
Silent, Alone
Curled Up On The Floor
In This One Bedroom Home.
His Face Was So Gentle,
The Room In Such Disorder,
Not At All 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?
Then I Realized The Other Families
That I Saw This Night,
Owned Their Lives To Soldiers
Who Were Willing To Fight.
From The Morning Round The World,
The Children Would Play,
Grownups Would Celebrate
A Bright Christmas Day.
But They All Enjoyed Freedom
Each Month Of The Year,
Because Of Soldiers,
Like The One Lying Here.
But 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 Eye,
I Dropped To My Knees
And Started To Cry.
The Soldier Awakened
I Heard His 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,
But I Couldn't Control It,
And 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 Honor
So Willing To Fight.
Then The Soldier Rolled Over,
In A Voice Soft And Pure,
He Whispered, "Carry On Santa,
It's Christmas Day, All Is Secure."
One Look At My Watch,
I Knew He Was Right.
"Merry Christmas My Friend,
May God Bless You This Night."
- The poem's author, James M. Schmidt, was a Lance Corporal stationed in Washington, D.C., when he wrote the poem back in 1986.
"A Soldier's Silent Night"
'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,
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.
No Stocking From The Mantle,
Just Boots Filled With Sand,
On The Wall Hung Pictures
Of Far Distant Lands.
With Medals And Badges,
Awards Of Every Kind,
A Sobering Thought Came Alive In My Mind
This House Was Different,
It Was Dark, It Was Dreary,
I Have Found The Home Of A Soldier,
I Can See That Most Clearly.
The Soldier Lay Sleeping,
Silent, Alone
Curled Up On The Floor
In This One Bedroom Home.
His Face Was So Gentle,
The Room In Such Disorder,
Not At All 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?
Then I Realized The Other Families
That I Saw This Night,
Owned Their Lives To Soldiers
Who Were Willing To Fight.
From The Morning Round The World,
The Children Would Play,
Grownups Would Celebrate
A Bright Christmas Day.
But They All Enjoyed Freedom
Each Month Of The Year,
Because Of Soldiers,
Like The One Lying Here.
But 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 Eye,
I Dropped To My Knees
And Started To Cry.
The Soldier Awakened
I Heard His 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,
But I Couldn't Control It,
And 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 Honor
So Willing To Fight.
Then The Soldier Rolled Over,
In A Voice Soft And Pure,
He Whispered, "Carry On Santa,
It's Christmas Day, All Is Secure."
One Look At My Watch,
I Knew He Was Right.
"Merry Christmas My Friend,
May God Bless You This Night."
- The poem's author, James M. Schmidt, was a Lance Corporal stationed in Washington, D.C., when he wrote the poem back in 1986.
