The pre dawn light is filtering through
And wakes still drowsy minds
Though others sleep and dreaming lie
I'm up and feeling fine
The dog's awake and once she's fed
She's looking for a run
I find her lead, put on my coat
And face the rising sun
Then blindly walk up to the Ring
Where through the sunless trees
She sniffs and gruffs and pokes around
Chasing things that I can't see
I'm now awake and feeling fine
Full of Get up and Go
I s'pect she'll soon want walks again
Can't I just let her go ?
But no, my Life would be so drear
Without Miss Penny's shine
Always showing, always proving
She's the the truest pal of mine
Tony Gardner
The Bells In Town Talk Of Snow Coming Down - Adam Clayton
The bells in town talk of snow coming down
I heard the clunk of tills’ metallic sound
Black Friday: shopping season begins
Within this tight stampede, nobody wins
Piled up with bags, rest in a discount chair
Escape the crush, look up and breathe fresh air
Frenzied Friday now, nearly Christmas day
Last minute attachments, promise to pray
Now, lights on the tree speak only to me
Tinsel-tied trance sings perfectly in key
Resting high, let’s float together in wine
Watching Jimmy Stewart: we’ll see him shine
Adam Clayton
I heard the clunk of tills’ metallic sound
Black Friday: shopping season begins
Within this tight stampede, nobody wins
Piled up with bags, rest in a discount chair
Escape the crush, look up and breathe fresh air
Frenzied Friday now, nearly Christmas day
Last minute attachments, promise to pray
Now, lights on the tree speak only to me
Tinsel-tied trance sings perfectly in key
Resting high, let’s float together in wine
Watching Jimmy Stewart: we’ll see him shine
Adam Clayton
Twelve Days Of Christmas - Ian Duquemin
On the twelfth day of Christmas
The sky was turning black
The winter wind began to blow
Its chill upon my back
On the eleventh day of Christmas
I watched some children play
The snow they threw while laughing
Made a winter scene cliche
On the tenth day of Christmas
A beggar raised his hand
I gave a word of sympathy
He didn't understand
On the ninth day of Christmas
A choir sang aloud
But no one even listened
They were lost within the crowd
On the eighth day of Christmas
The bells began to chime
Celebrating something
From a long forgotten time
On the seventh day of Christmas
The shops were nearly clear
While many would awake with gifts
Some would wake with fear
On the sixth day of Christmas
The bombs began to fall
Beneath the pile of rubble
Was a frightened child's call
On the fifth day of Christmas
While gun shots filled the air
Others wrapped their presents
Not a thought and not a care
On the fourth day of Christmas
The wine began to pour
While blood flowed freely somewhere else
In someone else's war
On the third day of Christmas
A star hung in the sky
But no one even noticed
What it came to signify
On the second day of Christmas
While many mourned their dead
Crackers pulled, exploded
And the corny jokes were read
On the first day of Christmas
The celebration starts
So...
Before you fill your stomachs
Take the time to fill your hearts
Ian Duquemin
The sky was turning black
The winter wind began to blow
Its chill upon my back
On the eleventh day of Christmas
I watched some children play
The snow they threw while laughing
Made a winter scene cliche
On the tenth day of Christmas
A beggar raised his hand
I gave a word of sympathy
He didn't understand
On the ninth day of Christmas
A choir sang aloud
But no one even listened
They were lost within the crowd
On the eighth day of Christmas
The bells began to chime
Celebrating something
From a long forgotten time
On the seventh day of Christmas
The shops were nearly clear
While many would awake with gifts
Some would wake with fear
On the sixth day of Christmas
The bombs began to fall
Beneath the pile of rubble
Was a frightened child's call
On the fifth day of Christmas
While gun shots filled the air
Others wrapped their presents
Not a thought and not a care
On the fourth day of Christmas
The wine began to pour
While blood flowed freely somewhere else
In someone else's war
On the third day of Christmas
A star hung in the sky
But no one even noticed
What it came to signify
On the second day of Christmas
While many mourned their dead
Crackers pulled, exploded
And the corny jokes were read
On the first day of Christmas
The celebration starts
So...
Before you fill your stomachs
Take the time to fill your hearts
Ian Duquemin
Christmas Morning - John Carré Buchanan
Giggles erupt from the huddle.
Excited nudges, toothless smiles.
The air fills with high pitched chatter,
as children talk all at once; no one listening.
Too much fun.
Shiny paper torn asunder, thrust behind.
Fingers break into cardboard boxes
to grasp treasures within.
Hovering in the background,
camera flashing,
parents revel in the joy before them.
A Christmas scene played out
in a thousand living rooms.
It won't be long before little voices everywhere plead;
Daddy, please can I have a go?
...... IT IS MINE !
John Carré Buchanan
Excited nudges, toothless smiles.
The air fills with high pitched chatter,
as children talk all at once; no one listening.
Too much fun.
Shiny paper torn asunder, thrust behind.
Fingers break into cardboard boxes
to grasp treasures within.
Hovering in the background,
camera flashing,
parents revel in the joy before them.
A Christmas scene played out
in a thousand living rooms.
It won't be long before little voices everywhere plead;
Daddy, please can I have a go?
...... IT IS MINE !
John Carré Buchanan
Christmas 1914 - Richard Fleming
Out of the trenches stepped one man,
a truce flag held above his head,
then from the other side was waved
a cloth and word was quickly spread.
From blackened ground, like seeds, they grew
to cover those disputed lands:
a khaki crop mingled with grey,
cautious at first, then shaking hands.
Gifts were exchanged, tobacco, smiles.
Creased photographs were shyly shown.
Then, from a trench that frosty day,
a leather soccer ball was thrown.
The goalposts were four bayonets.
A match was played in friendly style
by muddy boys, for boys they were.
War was forgotten for a while.
Richard Fleming
a truce flag held above his head,
then from the other side was waved
a cloth and word was quickly spread.
From blackened ground, like seeds, they grew
to cover those disputed lands:
a khaki crop mingled with grey,
cautious at first, then shaking hands.
Gifts were exchanged, tobacco, smiles.
Creased photographs were shyly shown.
Then, from a trench that frosty day,
a leather soccer ball was thrown.
The goalposts were four bayonets.
A match was played in friendly style
by muddy boys, for boys they were.
War was forgotten for a while.
Richard Fleming
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