It was Christmas
It was Christmas, and we were young,
when the snow was deep
and the lights were strung,
along Stony hill, Allen and Main.
And my uncle`s dead
but he too would light up
on a fifth of bourbon a day.
And on Christmas eve
would stand outside our front door
singing carols with a smile on his face
that lit up like a glow plug on a diesel.
While inside the food was
heaped in comfort and the sound of
joy and jingle, and laughter and clink!
as ice met glass and the liquor splashed
and the holly hung with garland,
and tinsel, and a phone on the wall
with it`s curly cord stretched
and closed behind a door,
because I had a sister, and brother,
and glass amber ashtrays
in all the rooms because
everyone smoked it seemed
and everyone drank it seemed
and everyone was young, except
the old people who would say things like,
it`s later than you think.
Or, have some fruit cake it`s good.
And over the years their wisdom`s
been proven true...
All but the fruit cake being good that is.
It was Christmas, and we were young,
when the snow was deep
and the lights were strung,
along Stony hill, Allen and Main.
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