Colin F. Jones


The medals that dead warriors wear rattle in the night,
As ghostly soldiers load their guns ready for the fight.
Out of the mist the Devil’s hordes darkly clad appear
As those who lost their lives on Earth advance with a cheer.
Their cannons blast the shadows, emerging from the dark,
That soon the savage hoards retreating have lost their evil spark.
“Forward – ever forward!” cry the Angels of the Lord
As the veterans of the earthen corps drive back the evil hoard.
And down below on that blue orb where veterans suffer ill,
There is respite on this fair night, for their demons, they are still.
For their comrades up in heaven have won for them another war,
Closing off the troubling memories of the atrocities that they saw,
That at least on this fair night, on this sacred Christmas Eve,
From the present in their stocking some real peace they will receive.