LJWorld.com weblogs Swampyville's - "The Banshee's Cry"
Swampyville's - The Holyday Tree!
I wish you a happy Holyday, I wish you a happy Holyday, I wish you a happy Holyday, and a Merry New Year;
Definition of Holy: "Worthy of absolute devotion"!
LET THE SECULARISTS AND THE ATHEISTS CALL IT THE "HOL(I)DAY SEASON" AND I WILL CONTINUE TO CALL IT THE "HOL(Y)DAY SEASON"!
The Holyday (Cristmas) Tree! By L. Don Oliver
Nineteen hundred and forty six, In the year of our Lord, To purchase a great northern pine, Our family could ill afford;
Our parents blaming no one, For our increasing Spartan lot; Saying a prayer of gratitude, for everything we've got;
It was after thanksgiving, Daddy and I went into the woods; To find the best southern pine, Anticipation described our moods;
Finding the best tree there, Daddy cut it at it's base; Saying, "Thank you, Oh! Lord", "For your infinite redeeming grace";
The scrawny tree standing forlorn, In the corner of our vacant living room, It's limbs outstretched and begging; Only added more to our present gloom;
When Mama gazed upon it, A tear came to her eye; Saying, "It can only get better", "That is, if we only try";
Alas, the times were tough, Our budget was extremely tight; Few extras that we could buy, Even a string of Holyday (Christmas) lights;
Many strands of colored paper, Cut and pasted into rings; They were entwined together, And wrapped around the wings;
Several strings of popcorn strung, Painted pine cones tied around; Adding to the Holyday (Christmas) Tree, All the what-nots to be found;
Red, White, Blue crochet doilies, Some crocheted with all three; Lovingly placed in strategic spots, All around the Holyday (Christmas) Tree;
Many multi-colored cloth remnants, cut into various strands; All tied to the tree limbs, Where bare needles demand;
Thin strips from an old white sheet, Icicles they were to be; Candy canes hung with care, All around the Holyday (Christmas) Tree;
When some candy canes went missing, The tree looked so forlorn; Mama would replace them all, On each and every morn;
A single crocheted Angel, Crocheted for everyone to see; Crocheted by Mama's loving hands, And placed on top of the tree;
Scenes with reverent views, All colored in crayon shades; Standing there we all gazed at; The transformation we had made;
Mama adjusted the Holyday (Christmas) Tree, Until it was standing right; Daddy played his worn guitar, And we all sang "Silent Night";