Sometime in December,
2008, our magnetic gaze of love
did more than just speak or act.
It was in wedlock consummated.
And like a dream, ten years have
gone by, as our tender fruits of
affection continue to sprout daily.

Continue to rest on my shoulder
until the sun on our wedlock sets.

I heard an old old Christmas song
sung by grandma on Christmas eve.
It wasn't in good stanzas long,
but it did the joyous times retrieve.
It gladdened my heart which did grieve
over all I thought I'd done wrong,
and could not annually achieve.
It did convey emotions strong
of joyous moments to relive:
Modest gifts, traditional meals
and the sweet scent of warmth that heals.
Contented in want we all shared
whilst our affections showed we cared.
All on our humble home converged,
in living rooms hardly enlarged.
To drink and eat cheap wine and food,
in unrivaled ecstasy and mood.

I heard an old old Christmas song
sung by grandma on Christmas eve.
I heard an old old Christmas song
of a ****** who did conceive.
I heard an old old Christmas song
of a Christ child who will relieve.
I heard an old old Christmas song
of glad tidings we shall receive.
I heard an old old Christmas song
of peace on earth we shall achieve.
I heard an old old Christmas song
of joyful people who did grieve.
I heard an old old Christmas song
of pain eternal we shall leave.

I'll spend this Christmas with none but you.
A time we'll relive old times anew,
in ecstasy on fifth avenue.
From nightfall until the skies turn blue,
fun will bid boredom a last adieu.
In this yuletide our love will renew
vintage affections beheld by few,
void of any pretentious residue,
because this Christmas is all about you.

I did in my garden see a Snake.
Curled calmly around the gardener's rake.
Knowing that my dear life was at stake,
I beckoned in fright to my son Jake.
"Get the matchbox and fuel for God's sake.
Burn him or precious lives he might take.
Recall the curse that came in the wake
of man's sin for which God did forsake
him in a world he couldn't retake."
But swiftly the Snake made for the lake.

The canons thunder,
the rifles rage,
and the horses
like swarms of bees
storm the plains
of feudal Europe.
Her princes tremble
and willingly
capitulate.
Prussia's undoubtedly mine
from Bavaria to the Rhine.
Russia's dreary wintry plains
will be where my scepter reigns.
Italy is my inheritance
as Portugal dreads resistance.
Without the sword i'll woo Poland
whilst to her knees i'll bring England
and kingdoms of the British isles.
French civilization and styles
will dethrone Europe's old order
as our ideals expand further.

My Lord the good shepherd and fortress of hope.
I gladly rest within thy Calvary's scope.
Where ills, death, torment are never endemic
in a world where strife is largely systemic.

Satan's forces can never with thee contend.
As they tirelessly try my soul to rend.
For in thy hands Lord I deliver my all,
let not the enemy gloat over my fall.

Hide me Lord from the ravenous devil's snare.
Through stalking passions he tries to draw me near
to hell's dreary coast of unquenchable fire.
Keep me from the deceit of this age old liar.

When I achieve eternity's sinless goal,
Lord to thee I will commend my precious soul.
Guarantee my safe passage to heaven's gate.
A celestial realm that is devoid of hate.