It was Christmas Eve, snow coming down
The Army was halted on frozen ground.
Soldiers on half-ration, coffee, hard tack.
Supplies were short, such an awful fact.
Lieutenant commands some season cheer,
Men wishing for barreled buttered beer.
Alas, he orders a squad deep into the trees,
Snow so deep, they thought they’d freeze.
Once they returned, behind them in jolly tow
Was pine tree for camp, their Christmas show.
Green was its beauty against glittered white,
Bringing them hope amid the coming fight.
Ever so gently it was decorated by hands,
Rough from living by any means they can.
A found ribbon here, color paper from there,
Carved figures, hand painted, hung with care.
All that was missing was Angel on top.
First Sergeant bellowed all work to stop.
Demanding feathers, chicken or ostrich plume.
If not, work details, to each man their doom.
It was a Corporal, who suggested the idear,
One both Privates and Captains like to hear.
They gathered as one, though it quite unusual
For Officers and Enlisted to break such a rule.
The Corporal said, “There’s a pair of boards
In camp on which to top the tree. They affords
Broad wings of silver and rest upon our Colonel’s
Shoulders.” Three cheers went up, hurrah, eternal.
Yet the Colonel had other thoughts so clear,
A single tin-type, his family, truly so dear,
Those more precious, where love dwells.
Ones he calls his God given living angels.
Come the morning, that Christmas Day
Company broke camp to make their way
To distant battlefields, leaving for all to see
A hundred Angels atop their Christmas tree.