Christmas Poem: Traditions

Well it’s another December and Christmas again,

A time of peace and goodwill toward men,

A season to celebrate the Saviour’s birth,

Observed all over the face of the earth,

With traditions of food and stories and gifts,

And songs, and family to celebrate with.

Now, some of our customs got me thinking,

You see, every tradition must have a beginning.

Like someone was first to say, “Hey, I know,

“I’ll hang up a sprig of that mistletoe,

“And when Margery gets here and walks in the door,

“I’ll say, ‘Hey Margery, know what the mistletoe is for?’

“And she’ll say, ‘Mistletoe? Oh, is that what that is?’

“And I’ll say, ‘Yeah. Now you and I have to kiss,’

“And if she says, ‘Why would I give you a kiss?’

“I’ll say, ‘You know, it’s the rules. That’s just how it is.’”

Well, full points for effort to the mistletoe dude,

He thought outside the box, that’s what you’ve gotta do.

But the whole concept now just seems kind of easy,

And, in my opinion, a little bit sleazy.

And who was the first guy to chop down a tree,

And drag it back to his place Christmas Eve,

And stand it in the corner of his living room,

Thinking this will remind him that Christmas is soon?

His wife comes in, says, “Why is there a pine tree in the house?”

He says, “Don’t worry, I’m not finished. This is gonna be grouse.”

Then he hangs lots of tinsel, says, “Now it feels like Christmas,”

His wife thinks, You know, if everyone did this, that would really help our tinsel business.

Another curious Christmas habit,

Is leaving cookies for Santa, the reindeer get carrots.

The first time that happened, was that really the plan,

Or was it just leftovers from a lazy man?

He left some half-eaten food on the bench,

And his roommate says, “I’m sick of you not cleaning your mess!

“I mean it, Phil, this is the last straw,

Pack up your stuff and get out the door!”

But Phil’s pretty smart, see? He thinks on his feet,

He says, “Nah, that’s not mess… I was leaving Santa a treat.”

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining,

I like our traditions, they could just use some explaining.

There was something else that came to mind,

It would make a tradition I could get behind.

And it happened the very first Christmas night,

See, there were shepherds in Bethlehem who got a great fright,

When a choir of angels lit up the sky,

And sang with rejoicing, and told the shepherds why.

That very night a child was born,

And lay in a manger, wrapped safe and warm.

This child was a king, this child was the Christ,

This child was the Saviour, this child was our light.

For this child was sent for the ransom of men,

That we might be free, never slaves again.

He came in our place as a sacrifice,

To suffer our judgment and lay down his life.

And to everyone who believes in him,

There is freedom from guilt, and forgiveness of sins.

So the shepherds left their flocks in the pasture,

And ran into town, they couldn’t run faster.

And they found the Saviour in his makeshift bed,

Then they told his parents what the angels said.

And at the sight of this little boy a-slumber,

The shepherds were filled with holy wonder.

Then they ran rejoicing through the streets,

Telling the good news to whoever they would meet.

And this, I think, would make a great tradition,

To be like the shepherds, to make that our mission.

To behold with wonder the gift of God,

To worship with joy Jesus his Son.

Then run through the streets on Christmas night,

Singing, rejoicing—we’d have a great time.

We’d wake up the neighbours with our boisterous cheer,

And when they ask what’s going on, we’d tell them—”The Saviour is here!”

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