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 mantle,
Just boots filled with sand.
On the wall hung pictures,
Of a far distant land.
With medals and badges,
Awards of all kinds,
A sobering 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 his one-bedroom home.
The face was so gentle,
The room in disorder,
Not how I pictured,
An Australian 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 grownups 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 honor,
So willing to fight.
Then the soldier rolled over,
With a voice soft and pure,
Whispered, "Carry on Santa,
All is secure."
One look at my watch,
And I knew he was right.
"Merry Christmas my friend,
And to all a good night."