Soldier's Silent Night

[itsjustme]

One of the saddest songs I've ever heard. Something to get us to remember those we love who serve us.

To hear it, go to
wlit.com/pages/maryam.html
Keyword: Soldier


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,
And just to see 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 the mantel, 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 United States 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 me 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.
“Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a good night.”

 

[catzmeow]

This is why I always reward my personal soldier with sexual favors at christmas-time.

 

[Agnapostate]

I can see why that would bring an abrupt end to the thread.

 

[catzmeow]

I can see why that would bring an abrupt end to the thread.

Really? I thought it was funny, but admittedly, my sense of humor is a little off. Not as off as your ethics, but still.

 

[WillowTree]

well, I giggled!

 

[catzmeow]

well, I giggled!

Apparently, our humor is not quite as high-brow as agna's.

 

[Agnapostate]

Or your mental capacities, for that matter.

 

[catzmeow]

Or your mental capacities, for that matter.

Well, I know you prefer pre-pubescent girls to actual women. So, i don't know that you can speak for anyone but yourself.

 

[Agnapostate]

But you see, that pales compared to your support for the Armenian genocide.

 

[catzmeow]

But you see, that pales compared to your support for the Armenian genocide.

True. I am a bastard-person.

 

[Agnapostate]

True. I am a bastard-person.

Well, one of those things. Probably not the other.

 

[Tech_Esq]

Hey Anga,

This is the real Mill quote appropriate to this thread:

War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks that nothing is worth war is much worse. The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself. -- John Stuart Mill

 

[Tech_Esq]

This is why I always reward my personal soldier with sexual favors at christmas-time.

You keep up the good work Catz

 

[Luissa]

One of the saddest songs I've ever heard. Something to get us to remember those we love who serve us.

To hear it, go to
wlit.com/pages/maryam.html
Keyword: Soldier


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,
And just to see 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 the mantel, 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 United States 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 me 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.
“Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a good night.”

That is nice!
Reminds of that Garth Brook song about WWI which is about a true story when the English and the Germans stopped their fighting for Christmas. I cry every time I hear it.

 

[WillowTree]

That is nice!
Reminds of that Garth Brook song about WWI which is about a true story when the English and the Germans stopped their fighting for Christmas. I cry every time I hear it.

There is a movie on that,, I wish I could remember the name of it..

 

[WillowTree]

Joyeux Noel (Merry Christmas) (2005)
March 3, 2006
A Christmas Truce Forged by Germans, French and Scots




Movie Review - Joyeux Noel (Merry Christmas) - A Christmas Truce Forged by Germans, French and Scots - NYTimes.com

 

[Epsilon Delta]

This is my favourite sad soldier song:

The Grave

The grave that they dug him had flowers
Gathered from the hillsides in bright summer colours,
And the brown earth bleached white at the edge of his gravestone.
He's gone.

When the wars of our nation did beckon,
A man barely twenty did answer the calling.
Proud of the trust that he placed in our nation,
He's gone,

But Eternity knows him, and it knows what we've done.

And the rain fell like pearls on the leaves of the flowers
Leaving brown, muddy clay where the earth had been dry.
And deep in the trench he waited for hours,
As he held to his rifle and prayed not to die.

But the silence of night was shattered by fire
As guns and grenades blasted sharp through the air.
And one after another his comrades were slaughtered.
In horde of Marines, alone standing there.

He crouched ever lower, ever lower with fear.
"They can't let me die! They can't let me die here!
I'll cover myself with the mud and the earth.
I'll cover myself! I know I'm not brave!
The earth! the earth! the earth is my grave."

The grave that they dug him had flowers
Gathered from the hillsides in bright summer colours,
And the brown earth bleached white at the edge of his gravestone.
He's gone.

 

[Luissa]

There is a movie on that,, I wish I could remember the name of it..

you are not thinking of "All quiet on the western front" are you. I remember I read the book and there is a movie and it is about WWI but I can't remember what it is exactly about it, I read the book twelve years ago.

 

[Agnapostate]

Hey Anga,

This is the real Mill quote appropriate to this thread:

I used to have that Mill quote in my signature elsewhere. But at any rate, I prefer Bentham to Mill on account of Mill's insistence on the qualitative separation of pleasures.