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 in this home just who did live.
 I looked all about, what 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 to my mind.
For this house was different, it was dark and dreary,
I found the house of a soldier, once I could see clearly.
The soldier lay sleeping silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor in his 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 just read,
Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed.
I realized the families that I saw that night,
Owed their lives to those soldiers who were willing to fight

 
 Soon around the world the children would play,
And grownups would celebrate a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,
Because of the 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 I 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,
This guardian of honor so willing to fight. Then the soldier turned 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 nite
Author Unknown