Santa and the soldier

It 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 did i see.
no tinsel, no presents,
not even a tree.

no stockings by the mantle,
just boots filled with sand.
on the wall hung pictures,
of far distant lands.

with medals and badges,
awards of all kind.
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 solier lay sleeping,
silent, alone.
curled up on the floor,
in this 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 had just read.
curled up on a poncho,
the floor for a bed.

I realised 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 laying here.

i couldnt 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 knee,
and started to cry.

the soldier awakened,
and i heard a soft voice.
"santa dont cry,
this life is my choice"

i fight for freedom
i dont ask for more
my life is my god
my country is my corps

the soldier rolled over
and drifted to sleep
i couldnt control it
i continued to weep

i kept watch for hours
so silent and still
and we both shivered
from the cold nights chill

i did not want to leave
on that cold dark night
this gardian of honour
so willing to fight

... my best friend has just recently left to go to war in afghanistan he is an Australian soldier and i miss him more than anything in the world!