The Changing Scenes of Christmas - Rod Ferbrache

Christmas has changed don’t you think?
From the ones when I was a lad,
Those times were special, simple and good,
Just my brothers, and me, Mum and Dad.
The ceiling was covered in paper chains,
There was holly and ivy – no tree,
Dad found a branch of evergreen oak,
Was as good as the real thing to me.

We’d go to bed early on Christmas Eve,
Made the night go quicker we thought,
But every so often I’d creep down the bed,
To feel what Santa had brought.
One of Dad’s socks did the trick every year,
Was amazing how much it would stretch,
We’d jump in their bed at the crack of dawn,
And our stockings we’d one by one fetch.

Christmas has changed don’t you think?
From the ones when I was a teen,
There were all sorts of decisions to make,
Like where to spend Christmas – I mean
Should I go to my girlfriend’s house?
Or should she come over to us?
What a difficult job to please everyone,
Yet we managed without too much fuss.

I remember one year on Boxing Day,
The party was held at my Gran,
It had snowed overnight but the roads were clear,
To drive Judy home was the plan.
But as evening fell so did the snow
Twas too deep to drive into town,
So she came home with me, and much to my glee,
From my parents not even a frown.

Christmas has changed don’t you think?
From the time when my children were small,
There were wish lists and hints dropped,
And the hope was that Santa would call.
It was their turn to jump on our bed in the dark,
“Can we get up, is it time?”
Didn’t matter that Dad worked a hundred hour week,
“Oh please can we get up?” they’d whine,

I loved Boxing Day; we’d play with their toys,
There was always something to make,
Lego was great; we’d build something big,
Like airports and towns with a lake.
My Little Pony, the Care Bears and Flumps,
Sylvanian families were fun,
The hours we spent on the floor with these things,
Just to think makes my throat grow a lump.

Christmas has changed don’t you think?
Now the girls have got boyfriends in tow,
Yet there’s a tradition that stays with us still,
You’ll not guess, so I’ll let you know.
Christmas Eve walks – they’re precious to me,
We’ve been doing them now twenty years,
We go out at three and come back in the dark,
During which we have faced many fears.

We can’t go on roads only farmland they say,
So through all the mud we trot,
There’s been chases with bulls, electrified fence,
And sometimes we’ve even been shot!
You’d think they could tell the difference between –
A rabbit, and humans times three,
But we still had to run across open land
And shelter behind a stout tree.

Christmas has changed don’t you think?
From that first Christmas long ago,
But has it? Or is it the things we have done
That has caused the occasion to grow.
We still celebrate the King who was born
In a stable so cold and bare
We sing of the Wise Men, who came from so far,
To worship, and give, and stare –
Into the eyes of the Christ child so small
A child who was destined to die,
We still praise His name and trust in His cross,
That was given for you and for I.

The story of Christmas remains the same,
The response is for us to give,
We either accept or reject this gift,
We can choose to die or to live,
Christmas can change from the one that you know,
The one that is never the same,
Just come to the Saviour, He beckons to you,
Listen, He’s calling your name.

Rod Ferbrache