DECEMBER 18, 2012

CHRISTMAS LETTER

Twas the night before our Savior's birth, all was quite through the land,

Not a sirens wail to be heard,

As we laid to rest, with sleep in our eyes and,

Dreams of shiny new engines in our bays,and shiny trucks too,

A minute or two before the stroke of twelve, such clattering of bells, alarms, often tell where to run,

As we, dashed from our sleep, throwing on our trousers as we ran,

We scrambled…