Dear readers, at this merry time,
Please forgive this far back old rhyme;
And thank God for such times as these,
Peace, joy, love, and Christmas trees.
In A.D. seven and twenty-four
A pilgrim band, weary and foot sore,
“Hiked” through the heart of Europe dark,
Where true religion was a spark.
Along the Roman road they trod,
This little team who worshipped God;
When lo! what meaneth this they see,
A crowd beneath a great oak tree?
Gather’d to ask the thunder God
To send them luck, and spare the rod;
To prove that they were not in fun
They offer’d up the chieftan’s son.
The priest brandished his axe full high,
Determined that Bernhard should die;
But Winfried thought this too bad,
Wards off the stroke, and saves the lad.
Prince Gregor then with woodman’s blow
Fells the great oak and lays it low;
A little fir-tree grew nearby,
Quite straight, and pointing to the sky.
So young Prince Gregor made that tree
Forerunner of the ones we see
In bright shop windows as of yore,
Displaying gifts and toys galore.
“Old Santa Claus” many believe
Is coming sure this Christmas eve
With a big bag full up with toys
For children young – good girls and boys.
Two bad wars hindered him a lot,
Although he never quiet forgot;
So hang big stockings where he’ll see,
Leaving results to friends that be.
Please give “Old Daddy” a good cheer
As thanks for coming round this year;
Hoping that many years he’ll shine,
Bringing us gifts for “Auld Lang Syne.”
Old Adam, Galgorm Parks,