’twas the day before Christmas
a time to reflect
Syncretism of ages
and those who reject
Siberian Shamans
who gave us a gift
A Solstice Santa
that worked night shift
Mistletoe of Oak
Revered by the Celts
Kissed under by Greeks
hung well above belts
The Goths gave us Yule
adapted by Brits
A month’s long of carols
bring the end of our wits
Constantine’s conversion
would neither quiet nor hide
It rattled the foundations
of most known world wide
Pagans cut boughs
of evergreen trees
to encourage the sun
and avoid a deep freeze
Happy Birthday to Mithras
December Twenty-Five
Those ancient traditions
in some form alive
A wealth of influence
joined over time
Were all considered right
when they were in prime
so ’twas the night before Christmas
and not a war to be fought
Leave that to us veterans
who would rather war naught
There are those that refuse
with all of their might
Offer them goodwill
and to all a good night