Disclaimer: I do not own any of these. I'm not creative enough to have written them. I've posted who they were written by to the best of my knowledge. If you catch a mistake or know who should be getting credit, please let me know!
There are many, many more versions of The Night Before Christmas. These are just some of my favorites. Have a great holiday everyone!!!
Navy Night Before By Major Bruce Lovely
(Printed in the Fort Leavenworth Lamp, 1995)
'Twas the night before Christmas, he lived in a crowd.
In a 40 man berthing, with shipmates so loud.
I had come down the exhaust stack with presents to give,
And to see just who in this rack did live.
I look all about, a strange sight I did see,
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stockings were hung, just boots close at hand
On the bulkhead hung pictures of far distant lands.
He had medals and badges and awards of all kind,
And a sober thought came into my mind.
For this place was different, it was so dark and dreary,
I had found the house of a Sailor, once I could see clearly.
The Sailor lay sleeping, silent and alone,
Curled up in his rack, dreaming of home.
The face was so gentle, the room in such disorder,
Not how I pictured a United States Sailor.
Was this the hero whom I saw on TV?
Defending his country so we could be free?
I realized the families that I saw this night,
Owed their lives to these Sailors who were willing to fight.
Soon 'round the world, the children would play,
And grownups would celebrate bright Christmas Day.
They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,
Because of the Sailor, like the one lying here.
I couldn't help but wonder how many lay alone,
On a cold Christmas Eve at sea, far from home.
The very thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees and started to cry.
The Sailor awakened and I heard a soft voice,
"Santa don't cry for this life is my choice.
Defend the seas this day, so others may rejoice."
The Sailor rolled over and drifted to sleep,
I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours so silent, so still, I didn't want to leave on that cold, dark
night, this guardian of honor so willing to fight.
Then the Sailor rolled over and with a voice soft and pure,
Whispered, "Carry on Santa, it's Christmas Day, all is secure."
Marine/Soldier Night Before
By Major Bruce Lovely
''Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
in a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimney with presents to give,
and to see just who in this home did live.
I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
no stocking by mantle, just boots filled with sand,
on the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.
With medals and badges and awards of all kinds,
And a sober thought came through my mind.
For this house was different, it was so dark and dreary,
I had found the home of a Soldier, once I could see clearly.
The Soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor of this one bedroom home.
The face was so gentle, the room in such disorder,
Not how I pictured a United States Soldier.
Was this the hero whom of whom I'd just read?
Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?
I realized the families that I saw this night,
Owed their lives to these Soldiers who were willing to fight.
Soon 'round the world, the children would play,
And grownups would celebrate bright Christmas Day.
They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,
Because of the Soldier, like the one lying here.
I couldn't help wonder how many lie alone,
On a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home.
The very thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees and started to cry.
The Soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice,
"Santa don't cry, this life is my choice.
I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more."
My life is my God, my Country, my Corps.
The Soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep,
I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours so silent, and still,
And we both shivered from the night's cold chill.
I didn't want to leave on that cold, dark night,
this guardian of honor so willing to fight.
Then the Soldier rolled over and with a voice soft and pure,
Whispered, "Carry on Santa, it's Christmas Day, all is secure."
One look at my watch, and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a good night.
A Star Treking Christmas
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the ship
Not a circuit was buzzing, not one microchip;
The phasers were hung in the armoury securely,
In hopes that no aliens would get up that early.
The crewmen were nestled all snug in their bunks
(Except for the few who were partying drunks);
And Picard in his nightshirt and Bev in her lace,
Had just settled down for a neat face-to-face...
When out in the halls there arose such a racket,
That we leapt from our beds, pulling on pant and jacket.
Away to the lifts we all shot like a gun,
Leapt into the cars and yelled loudly, "Deck One!"
The bridge Red-Alert lights, which flashed through the din,
Gave a lustre of Hades to objects within.
When, what, on the viewscreen, should our eyes behold,
But a weird kind of sleigh, and some guy who looked old.
But the glint in his eyes was so strange and askew
That we knew in a moment it had to be Q.
His sleigh grew much larger as closer he came.
Then he zapped on the bridge and addressed us by name:
"It's Riker! It's Data! It's Worf and Jean-Luc!
It's Geordi! And Wesley, the genetic fluke!
To the top of the bridge, to the top of the hall!
Now float away! Float away! Float away all!"
As leaves in the autumn are whisked off the street,
So the floor of the bridge came away from our feet,
And up to the ceiling our bodies they flew,
As the captain called out, "What the hell is this, Q?!"
The prankster just laughed and expanded his grin,
And, snapping his fingers, he vanished again.
As we took in our plight and were looking around,
The spell was removed, and we crashed to the ground.
Then Q, dressed in fur from his head to his toe,
Appeared once again, to continue the show.
"That's enough!" cried the captain, "You'll stop this at once!"
And Riker said, Worf! Take aim at this dunce!"
"I'm deeply offended, Jean-Luc," replied Q,
"I just want to celebrate Christmas with you."
As we scoffed at his words, he produced a large sack.
He dumped out the contents and took a step back.
"I've brought gifts," he said, "just to show I'm sincere.
There's something delightful for everyone here."
He sat on the floor and dug into his pile,
And handed out gifts with his most charming smile:
"For Counsellor Troi, there's no need to explain.
Here's Tylenol-Beta for all of your pain.
For Worf I've some mints as his breath's not too great,
And for Geordi LaForge, an inflatable date.
For Wesley, some hormones, and Clearasil-Plus;
For Data, a joke book; for Riker, a truss.
For Beverly Crusher, there's sleek lingerie,
Then he sprang to his feet with that grin on his face
And, clapping his hands, disappeared into space.
But we heard him exclaim as he dwindled from sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good flight!"
