“Did you hear it?” asked the ranger tilting his head slightly to one side and leaning on his rake. “There it is again! Did you hear it?” I listened, standing there
When stars forget to light the midnight sky, and restless tides no more their motions ply; when Earth upon its axis fails to turn, and setting suns the skies no longer burn;
He’s coming home for Christmas. He’s coming home to stay, our loyal son of Uncle Sam, born in the great USA He’s coming home for Christmas, the baby whom I bore.