T'was the night before Christmas
The kids were in bed
Dreaming of Santa
All dressed up in red

The wife was upstairs
Wrapping gifts in our room
I was watching old Scrooge
In old London gloom

when out of the blue
there was a knock at the door
I leapt from the couch
and i slipped on the floor

i answered the knock
i still got there quick
and to my surprise
there stood St. Nick

"Please, sir I pray"
"may I enter through here"
"My stomach is churning"
"an explosion is near"

I pointed the way
first door on the right
Santa went off
To relieve himself right

My wife came downstairs
She asked 'bout the knock
I said go upstairs
She'd think my tale was a crock

The bathroom door opened
Santa came out
Then he told me the tale
Of what this all was about

"All of these houses"
"with warm milk and cookies"
"get my gut growling"
"like a room full of wookies"

"Soy, two percent"
"almond and skim"
"all mixed together"
"the result is quite grim"

"It started to churn"
"and I was getting quite frantic"
"I was just coming in"
"from above the Atlantic"

"Most years it's fine"
"But, this soy...never try it"
"it should really be banned"
"not put in one's diet"

"Do you mind if I sit"
"for a while just in case"
"I've got more houses to hit"
"And it will be a race"

My wife stood quite still
In fact she'd not said a word
Imagine your toliet downstairs
Home to dear Santa's ****

I offered a drink
Something to settle him down
He said thanks, but begged off
And he gave a slight frown

"I've got to get going"
"Time stops just so long"
"Thanks for your help"
"It could have all gone so wrong"

He filled up our stockings
He called his reindeer by name
"I'll bypass the chimney
and I'll leave as I came"

I looked at my wife
We both said "oh well"
I mean when you take it all in
Just who could we tell?

So, in future please listen
take a second and think
It could end up quite bad
don't leave him soy milk to drink

I love to sit in comfort
At home watching TV
I watch my favorite movies
The one's that work for me

It's not a Christmas movie
Just because there's snow
That's something folks at Hallmark
Should be told, so someone knows

To me, A Christmas movie
Has Santa and a gift
It has a Christmas message
It gives people a lift

Getting lost in a big snowstorm
Finding love in a small town
Doesn't make it Christmas
In fact, it brings me down

I want music, Bing and Danny
Scrooge , Kris Kringle, silent night
I want movies I grew up with
I want films in black and white

I watch movies that will touch me
Make me feel what's deep inside
I want to feel the Christmas spirit
I want shepherds to abide

A Christmas film is something
I want to sit and watch each year
I want to understand what they are saying
I want the message to be clear

Entertain me, make me feel it
Films traditional and new
I want to travel backwards
To remember Christmas past....don't you

A real good Christmas movie
Brings memories into my mind
Of sitting down with Grandpa
Things Hallmark doesn't find

So, even though it starts a fire
No matter what you see
It may be a Christmas film to you
But, it may not be to me

No one calls me by name anymore
I'm the Poppy Man to most
At least that's how most folks know me

I've been selling poppies for the legion
Since 1946
Let's see...yep...it was 46
Went over in 43 at 17 years of age
Home in 45, and yep...46
Same spot too.
There's been two owners here at Danny's. Funny thing though....
neither was called Danny. Turns out Danny was the brother of the original owner, got shot down over Germany, so they named the place after him.
I guess that's why they let me come here and sell poppies every year.

Good thing.
Now, I'm getting up there, they let me sit inside the door. Have a nice little table for myself, and they keep my cup full.
I start selling November 1st, at precisely 11 o'clock. That's just the way it should be....11 o'clock.

Over the years, I've put up with wind, rain, snow and I've always held my post. Lost a few poppies in the wind one time, and the funny thing was...people came and paid me for them afterwards. Told me they found them blowing up the street, figured they were mine. Funny things that people do.

I'll tell you 'bout the name The Poppy Man. It started in 1952. A young mother and her daughter were inside having lunch, and I heard the daughter going on about saving change for the Poppy Man. I guess, I was the Poppy Man.
One of the waitresses put a sign up by the register saying "don't forget to save your change for The Poppy Man"....and it's kinda stuck.
That little girl came back every day with her mother, dropped her pennies in and saluted. You know the way kids do...hand open and all. I guess I owe the name to her.
I've collected lots of memories over the years, most of which I can only smile about now. If I start talking about them, I'd just tear up and you wouldn't get the whole story...so, I'll keep them to myself.
I'm a bit of a celebrity in these parts I guess.
Teachers bring their classes to me, every year to get their poppies. They always send me nice letters too, saying thanks Poppy Man. Cute little drawings, and big printing. Nowadays, I appreciate the big printing more and more.
Over the years, I've collected pennies, dimes, nickels, the usual suspects, bus tickets, candy wrappers, subway tokens, whatever someone had in their pocket at the time. I've seen it all in my tin.
The last few years, I guess since about 1997 or so, the cadets send someone down to stand with me for a while during my stint here.
Good kids mostly, dedicated, and with the same determined look I think we all had back in 43 when I went over.
Most of us didn't make it back, I'm one of the lucky ones. Some who did, never came back right if you know what I mean. But, that's all I'm gonna say about that.
There's only 5 of us left now from the old regiment. I can still see their faces when I shut my eyes....young, virile, strong. I miss them all.
I guess that's why I do it. Sell the poppies every year. It's for them. And for the new kids. New soldiers, new wars, it never changes in that way...just a different style of fighting.
Every now and then though, you know I hear that old bugler tuning up his bugle, and I think "not yet...I'm not ready to have The Last Post played for me"...."not yet".
So, that's about it for me, The Poppy Man....everyone knows me, and I'm easy to find ....just head to Danny's, I'll be at the table at the front.
Don't forget now....save your change for the poppy man.

The door opened, he entered
There was a whoosh of air
The Bluesman looked bedraggled
And he grabbed himself a chair

Cy, came out, he heard the bell
Saw the Bluesman, gave a smile
He said "I see the storm is worse"
"It's gonna keep up for a while"

The Bluesman looked around the store
Saw a guitar on the wall
"She's an old one hanging over there"
He called to Cy, now down the hall

He grabbed it, rubbed the neck some
He said "she's got a lot to say"
He went back to the wooden chair
And the Bluesman, he did play

"There's lots of music in this girl"
"So many songs not sung"
He looked back at the hook behind
Where this old guitar had hung

He sang songs about Jesus
about freedom, and the moon
Amazingly for the guitars age
It wasn't out of tune

Cy went to the pawn stores  back
returning with a flask
He'd brought the Bluesman medicin
The Bluesman continued with his task

"This old girls a treasure trove"
"She's just so full of words"
"Songs kept hidden for so long"
"Songs just waiting to be heard"

He played some more, the storm let up
He thanked Cy, took his leave
"An old guitar needs to be played"
"It's lost songs to be grieved"

"You know that you can play her"
"Whenever you come by"
The Bluesman turned and smiled
He held the flask given by Cy

"That old guitar is special"
"She's an old soul, just like me"
"I thank you for the offer"
"Time will tell, we'll see"

The Bluesman left the pawnshop
It was if he wasn't there
He went out back behind Gianni's
And sang his music to the air

It's safer in the middle
It's really plain to see
If someone tries to pick me off
They shoot others before me

A platoon is led by leaders
Some who aren't around
While those of us out marching
Get picked off without a sound

You know it may sound selfish
Listen up, it isn't dumb
It's safer in the middle
Than with the flag or with the drum

It's safer in the middle
At the back you're in the hunt
If the parade should turn around
You now are at the front

A Cowboys Christmas

We've been making this run
For twenty odd years
On up to Kansas
To bring back some steers

This time weather came up
The wind started to blow
And as it got colder
We were buried by snow

We needed a place
Where we could get cover
We had to find somewhere
One way or the other

Christmas was coming
And we'd not back it home
We were out here all frozen
But, we were not alone

The wind it kept blowing
The snow piled high
We lost three cows in the night
They were destined to die

They were weak when we got them
The walk was too tough
When the weather moved in
Well, that was enough

We hunkered down round the fire
Kept it tended real good
We'd gone and collected
A supply of wood

Christmas was coming
And we'd be away
It's the lot of the cowboy
To be away Christmas Day

The snow it got deeper
And more cattle were lost
We were stuck going nowhere
And dead steer were the cost

We were all round the fire
When the sky opened wide
The clouds disappeared
They all moved to the side

There in the heavens
Was a shining bright star
I'm sure it was one
All could see from afar

It lit up the country
With a sparkling glow
All we could see
Were the steers, and the snow

It was then that we realized
That Christmas was here
We had just gone past midnight
And the sky was now clear

We dropped to our knees
Said a prayer to the Lord
We still had our lives
And our feelings just soared

We'd beaten the storm
And would be on our way
We would still not be home
On this Christmas Day

We slept for a while
Then we ate, hit the trail
We all now had
A new Christmas tale

Christmas had come
With not presents or fuss
It was Christmas regardless
Inside all of us

A cowboy spends Christmas
Where ever he might
Whether out on the job
Or at home for the night

Christmas is Christmas
Without trinkets or beads
It's a feeling inside
It is faith, that one needs

So this cowboys Christmas
Was spent moving the herd
Kneeling down in a snowdrift
And sharing the word

Chicken little took a gun
The day that he turned 51
He put the gun beneath his head
Pulled the trigger...now he's dead

He made sure that he did die
And every birthday you will cry
You tried thrice to do the same
Try once more to win the game

The guilt you feel will fuel a fire
Face the facts...he did expire
You enabled like you always do
So that gun killed not one but two

It tore a family right apart
It didn't melt your blackened heart
So sit upon your stolen throne
And wait to die alone...alone