“I’ll be home for the holidays!”
Coming back from Iraq,
he’s ready for some jolly days
with Mom and brother Jack. “Hurry home, Son! We’ll be waiting
and joyfully celebrating.
Hurry home, Son!
Hurry home, Son,
to the feast I’m orchestrating.”
“I’ll be home for the holidays.
We are leaving next week.”
Those words make her eyes start to glaze
as tears run down her cheek. “Come home safe, Son.”: Her fervent wish
after months of fear-fed anguish.
“Come home safe, Son.
Come home safe, Son,
and I’ll make your favorite dish.”
“I’ll be home for the holidays,”
carolers are singing,
the Yule tree is trimmed to amaze,
and church bells are ringing. “Welcome home, Son!” She can’t restrain
as he proudly steps off the plane.
“Welcome home, Son!
Welcome home, Son.
Now, Christmas joy is sure to reign.”
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