Though half a century has passed,
And Christmas time is near.
My memories are as fresh to-day,
In spite of passing years.
The blazing fire of logs and turf,
Red cinders roasting brown,
The sizzling turkey in the pot,
And a pudding dark and round.
Our toys were few, but treasured,
We accepted all with joy,
Home made dolls of rags and wool,
With games for each small boy.
Our Grannies and our Grandads,
We greeted with open arms,
I can almost feel their loving hugs,
Their hearts aglow and warm.
They told us of the Holy Child,
Who was born on Christmas Day,
“It is HIS birthday, Child, you know,”
They said in their gentle way.
The holly and the berry,
From the hedge below the hill,
The lighting candle’s flickering glow,
In dreams I see it still.
Granny told of the little Lord,
With Mary and Joseph brave,
As they fled with fright from Herod,
On a donkey’s back so bare.
We crept into our beds that night,
And watched the stars with care,
Dotting they, the floors of Heaven,
Like gems on a snow white cake.
Today, I close my eyes and dream,
Of my home, now far away,
Memories fair, like pictures float,
And the love we had and shared.
The folks, now gone, are looking down,
On a world, that knows great change,
We had no pomp or riches then,
Yes, Christmas time was great.
Mairead Tuohy Duffy C) 2004