A Garand For Christmas
A Poem Honoring The Battle of The Bulge and Those Who Fought It
A soldier from the United States,
Stares into white, dark forests as he waits.
A German can kill him, but he can't fight back.
He needs a Garand for Christmas.
His first rifle jammed, and he left it behind,
For that, he knows, a German is alive.
All he has left is a pistol and one magazine,
He needs a Garand for Christmas.
Back at home, his mother lays asleep,
She's been up for hours, solely to weep.
While she hopes her son lives through the night,
But he needs a Garand for Christmas.
Deep in the Rhine, the young man sits,
Praying to God for a pair of mitts.
For he can't fight if he can't pull the trigger,
On an M1 Garand for Christmas.
He walks around the scared battleground,
Looking over the men who the Germans laid down.
And low and behold, what does he find?
It is an M1 Garand for Christmas.
And just like that, as soon as he takes it,
Bullets fly by, but he never gets hit.
He takes aim at a Kraut and pulls the trigger,
Killing him with his Garand for Christmas.
