It was early Christmas Eve Day
There was light snow on the ground
And lightly, if you listened
You could hear the slightest sound
It wasn't from a choir
Nor, a speaker on the street
But, a voice, tired and raspy
That would not admit defeat
Normally, at Christmas
The street would be alive
With last minute visits
Before Santa would arrive
Gianni held a party
For the vendors out this way
But, this year, there'd be nothing
There was no party today
Behind his place, The Bluesman
Had moved inside from the cold
He'd moved to the old Church basement
Where his stories were still told
He'd head outside and sing some
His "med-cine" in his jug
Behind the Church he'd set up,
On a wood chair, with a rug
The Bluesman sang to no one
His voice crisp, but not as strong
The elements were tough now
But, they would not take his song
The pastor, always present
Standing, watching by the door
He loved hearing the Bluesman
But, he loved the people more
Some Sundays, not all though
The Bluesman would begin
The service for the pastor
Then the choir joined in
He'd sneak off to the basement
Or outside, with his guitar
The Bluesman, felt his music
Was his lightning in the jar
This morning, though not Sunday
He was singing to the few
Lost souls, and some locals
Who had nothing else to do
The church doors were wide open
Every candle had been lit
It wasn't cold inside there,
But, maybe, just a little bit
He sang some Christmas carols
Some old blues, and Lennon too
He stopped and took a swallow
That was the choirs cue
They'd come in from the alley
The pastor had them in behind
The Bluesman, kept on singing
He was lost inside his mind
The church was filling up though
The voices carried on the wind
To those who always came here
And those who never sinned
There were masks of every colour
In every second row
The pastor kept folks distanced
For this little make shift show
The Bluesman sang a few more
Then he spoke unto the crowd
"Keep those you love inside your heart"
Though it wasn't very loud
He walked on past the pastor
By the choir, to the stair
And like Clement Moore's old Santa
In a blink, he wasn't there
Things this year were different
Not like parties in the past
Held up at old Gianni's
No one knew how long they'd last
There was no star to sing to
It was early in the day
But, we'd got our Christmas present
We'd got to hear the Bluesman play
Maybe next year, would be better
Back to normal, as before
But, who knows, just what will happen
What the muses have in store
So, take the Christmas message
"Keep those you love inside your heart"
God bless you all this Christmas
Another year is set to start
Dec 15, 2020
Dec 15, 2020 at 3:52 PM UTC
It was early Christmas Eve Day
There was light snow on the ground
And lightly, if you listened
You could hear the slightest sound
It wasn't from a choir
Nor, a speaker on the street
But, a voice, tired and raspy
That would not admit defeat
Normally, at Christmas
The street would be alive
With last minute visits
Before Santa would arrive
Gianni held a party
For the vendors out this way
But, this year, there'd be nothing
There was no party today
Behind his place, The Bluesman
Had moved inside from the cold
He'd moved to the old Church basement
Where his stories were still told
He'd head outside and sing some
His "med-cine" in his jug
Behind the Church he'd set up,
On a wood chair, with a rug
The Bluesman sang to no one
His voice crisp, but not as strong
The elements were tough now
But, they would not take his song
The pastor, always present
Standing, watching by the door
He loved hearing the Bluesman
But, he loved the people more
Some Sundays, not all though
The Bluesman would begin
The service for the pastor
Then the choir joined in
He'd sneak off to the basement
Or outside, with his guitar
The Bluesman, felt his music
Was his lightning in the jar
This morning, though not Sunday
He was singing to the few
Lost souls, and some locals
Who had nothing else to do
The church doors were wide open
Every candle had been lit
It wasn't cold inside there,
But, maybe, just a little bit
He sang some Christmas carols
Some old blues, and Lennon too
He stopped and took a swallow
That was the choirs cue
They'd come in from the alley
The pastor had them in behind
The Bluesman, kept on singing
He was lost inside his mind
The church was filling up though
The voices carried on the wind
To those who always came here
And those who never sinned
There were masks of every colour
In every second row
The pastor kept folks distanced
For this little make shift show
The Bluesman sang a few more
Then he spoke unto the crowd
"Keep those you love inside your heart"
Though it wasn't very loud
He walked on past the pastor
By the choir, to the stair
And like Clement Moore's old Santa
In a blink, he wasn't there
Things this year were different
Not like parties in the past
Held up at old Gianni's
No one knew how long they'd last
There was no star to sing to
It was early in the day
But, we'd got our Christmas present
We'd got to hear the Bluesman play
Maybe next year, would be better
Back to normal, as before
But, who knows, just what will happen
What the muses have in store
So, take the Christmas message
"Keep those you love inside your heart"
God bless you all this Christmas
Another year is set to start
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