----- Original Message -----
From: Marshall Ruskin <mruskin@PANGEA.CA>

It's almost Friday, so I thought it would be acceptable to post this,
.....especially since it is Thanksgiving for our American friends.

 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 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 FAR 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, ALONE,
 CURLED UP ON THE FLOOR
 IN THIS ONE BEDROOM HOME.

 THE FACE WAS SO GENTLE,
 THE ROOM IN SUCH DISORDER,
 NOT HOW I PICTURED
 A CANADIAN 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,
 IT'S CHRISTMAS DAY, ALL IS SECURE."

 ONE LOOK AT MY WATCH,
 AND I KNEW HE WAS RIGHT.
 "I JUMPED IN MY SYNCRO,
AND TORE THROUGHT THE NIGHT."

 This poem was written by a Canadian soldier stationed
 in the former Yugoslavia.

"Reprinted by Personal Request"