A Winter's Night

The snow blows cold, down the hill, round the jagged rock, 
It piles high against the barn, threatening the stock. 
Dark has come upon the land, shrouding snowy blight. 
The howling of the wind is heard, on this winter night. 
But inside, the fire is warm, chasing 'way the cold. 
My wife and I sit by the tree and sing the songs of old. 
On late into the evening, until all the songs are sung, 
We sing the tunes quietly, not to wake the young. 
Why we thought, of all the nights, we could sing at all, 
for, out of the corner of my eye, I see standing in the hall, 
the kids swaying quietly, their eyes bulging at the sights, 
staring at the tree, not us, with all its twinkling lights. 
"Can't chase them back to bed, they're too excited now." 
Their mom first looks at me, a frown upon her brow. 
A smile slowly creeps across her face, a twinkle in her eye, 
"I guess you got a point, it's Christmas Eve," quietly a sigh. 
We gather 'round the fire just to chase away the cold, 
then we sit by the tree, and sing the songs of old. 
On late into the night, until the songs are sung again, 
we sing the tunes quietly, 'til we're back where we begin.