Twas the night before Christmas and across the pike
Not a locomotive was running not even the ol’ Mike.
Their fireboxes cold, their ashes all dumped;
There was nary a car in the yard to be humped.
The railyard was quiet, nary a sound could be heard;
In the dark of the night nothing did stir.
A flurry of snow is expected tonight;
I’d better hurry, the old pot belly to light.
As the moon rose so high in the sky that night
I knew that everything would soon be alright.
I had just settled into the old watchman’s chair;
It soon would be Christmas and I had not a care.
When out in the yard, there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the shanty to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a rocket,
Tripped over the cat, pulled the lamp from its socket.
When what to my cautious eyes did appear
But an old hobo looking for some Christmas cheer.
A little old man so tired and worn,
The look on his face was very forlorn.
In his thread bare coat he shivered so hard,
Many nights had he spent in the back of the yard.
I invited him into the shanty so warm,
Twas better than sleeping on the train’s platform.
I offered him coffee so hot and so strong;
The pot on the stove won’t last very long.
In the back of the shanty, on a cot so warm,
He did spend the night away from the storm.
When Christmas morning had come, with the sun so bright,
I checked to make sure the hobo was alright.
Instead of the hobo a note I did find;
The hobo had thanked me for being so kind.
And there on the cot was a package so nice;
It couldn’t be for me; I had to check twice.
Inside I did find a new coat and a cap,
Along with some gloves and a throw for my lap.
The note was from Santa, a message of cheer:
Merry Christmas to all and a Happy New Year!
