A CHRISTMAS SILHOUETTE—1941

John E. Caughman

Solo 1: Tonight a sentry’s rifle is my Christmas tree,

The night wind sighing is my Yuletide dry.

With lonely step I watch the silent sea.

Tonight we are alone, my gun and I.

My tin hat is heavy, cold and wet.

Slowly we walk the midnight watch—

All: A man, a gun; A Christmas silhouette.

Solo 1: Yet, I know—my gun, it does not know—

The snapping cedars and pinions birght,

The room smelling of pine and smilax

All: And the warmth and love of a Christmas night.

Solo 1: Even now, under these darkening skies

The vision of ewer with silver handles

Comes like a dream to my tired brain,

And, yes, I smell the bayberry candles.

One Christmas—not long ago—there was another gun

A gun wrapped in tinsel, ribbons, tags and all.

A note:

Solo 2: “With love to you, my son, for sport;

Get the ducks when it comes fall.”

Solo 1: Those days have swept away on the rising tide,

All: Gone like the hurried turning of a page.

Solo 1: The words of the Great Prince have dimmed:

All: We are left with malice, hate and rage.

Solo 1: We have come to that time of wrath and hate

When death wings down from the sky;

All: When Christmas lights go dim—go black.

Solo 1: We walk the beach alone—my gun and I.

We must stand guard in the wind and rain.

All: And they shall pray. Yes, hear their prayer,

Solo 1: “May the Prince of Peace return again!”