An old abandoned house it was—
a broken-hearted place;
alone, again, with memories
that time did not erase.
As winds raced through its attic,
you could hear its timbers moan,
“Ain’t nothin’ quite so lonely
as a Christmas spent alone.”
And out upon the prairie,
rode a cowboy, Christmas day.
His wife had long since passed on;
and his kids lived far away.
Each Christmas left him heartsick
like few other days he’d known.
Ain’t nothin’ quite so lonely
as a Christmas spent alone.
And up above the prairie
through the star-lit clouds up high,
Santa, reindeer, sleigh and elves
were traveling ‘cross the sky.
Finished! They were finished!
Their task was truly daunting—
to visit every family,
and leave no child a wanting.
But, it left his crew bone-weary—
with a journey home ahead.
Exhausted, drained, the crew now faced
the journey home with dread.
Tired, the crew and Santa too,
and traveling back so slow,
when Santa spied an empty house
just waiting, down below.
Then Santa made a bee-line
for the yard; and parked his sleigh.
He figured that his weary crew
would rest there Christmas day.
The house was just ecstatic
when they all walked through its door,
unpacked their sleighs, and lit a fire,
and sacked out on its floor.
* * * * * * * * * *
The cowboy saw the vacant house,
with curling, chimney smoke.
He figured there was someone there
who fueled the fire and stoked.
With a pine tree freshly axed to give
the occupant within,
he headed for the house with hope
he’d be invited in.
Well, Santa and his crew were pleased
to have a Christmas guest.
They asked the man to come on in
and stay awhile and rest.
The reindeer dashed into the house,
but no one cared a fig.
The cowboy yodeled up a storm;
and Santa danced a jig
Donner played a fiddle
and Vixen played a flute;
and Rudolph on his new tin horn
chimed in with a toot.
Dancer drummed an old tin pan
and Prancer sang a song;
and Rudolph on his new toy horn,
tooted right along.
If you’re wondering, dear Reader,
just how this story ends—
well the cowboy found a nice, warm house
with lots of kindly friends.
And the sad, old house was happy
and filled with Christmas cheer;
and memories that warmed its heart
all through the coming year.
And Santa long remembered
stopping there to rest.
Indeed, he thought that Christmas day
was just about the best.
He’d been alone when he got home
most Christmas days before.
They left him feeling empty
and wanting something more.
* * * ** * * * * *
The moral of this story—
for there is a moral here—
about what counts for Christmas,
for that day is drawing near….
what counts are friends and family!
Gift are over-blown!
Ain’t nothin’ quite so lonely
as a Christmas spent alone.
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's permission.
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