Monday, December 13, 2004

Preacher treads the virgin snow,
Past windows glowing with candle light.
The smell of woodsmoke from cottage fires,
Drifts across the silent vale.
Sounds of distant church bells ringing,
Herald the start of the christmas tale.
Farmers, shepherds, foresters and wives,
Children and old folk throng the kirk.
Scarves and bonnets, warmest clothing,
Carollers huddle 'neath flickering lantern.
Shepherds watch while cattle lo,
And think of a stable long ago.
Now they're tucked up in their beds,
Ears a'straining for reindeer bells.
Downstairs mother fills the stockings,
Father ties them round the hearth.
Snow hangs from ancient pine trees,
Like Santa's northern grotto.
Welly clad children pulling sledges,
Happy voices ring through the lanes.
Old folk sit by hot log fires,
Talking of winters of long ago.
Of roasted chestnuts and wassail cups,
Of freezing winters of long, long ago.

Written specially for the
Christmas Housecall Programe
BBC Radio Cleveland 1983