Merry Christmas Sarah.
My wife has been hearing a male voice choir singing Silent Night in her head for the last two days.It went away yesterday and now it's come back again as she cooks the turkey. It's a weird one that i've never heard of. She was overcome with your 'christmas carol' which she says was beautiful. Makes it all that more weird.
So beautiful, Sarah.
.Sarah, that was beautiful, thank you.And I always look forward to your Christmas picture, I assume it's you in the decorated hall and the gold dress. Very classy and appropriate..
A bit belated but I trust that you and your family have an enjoyable Christmas, Sarah.Thank you for all your posting efforts this year. No doubt like you and other commentators, I trust that 2012 will be a good year for all who genuinely love this country and aspire to see it delivered from the multi-mix morass it is mired in at present.Genuine Britons and their allies and supporters have for too long experienced the truth of Psalm 123:4:"Our soul is exceedingly filled with the scorning of those that are at ease, and with the contempt of the proud."
And a Happy CHRISTmas to you and yours, Sarah, from a 'friend' over here in the once and future CSA.
Merry Christmas, Sarah.And I wish your readers the same.-VA
I wish all a white Christmas, a very white Christmas to all.
The miners dream of home.1.It is ten weary years since I left Englands shoreIn a far distant country to roamHow I long to return to my own native landTo my friends and the old folks at homeLast night as I slumbered I had a strange dreamOne that seemed to bring distant friends near I dreamt of old England the land of my birthTo the heart of her sons ever dearCHORUS.I saw the old homestead and faces I loveI saw Englands valleys and dellsI listened with joy as i did when a boyTo the sound of the old village bellsThe log was burning brightly Twas a night that should banish all sinFor the bells were ringing the old year out And the new year in.2.While the joyous bells rang swift I wended my wayTo the cot where i'd lived when a boy And I looked in the window--Yes! there by the fireSat my parents!- my heart filled with joyThe tears trickled fast down my bronze furrowed cheek As I gazed on my mother so dearI knew in my heart she was raising a prayerFor the boy whom she dreamt not was near.3.At the door of the cottage we met face to faceTwas the first time for ten weary yearsSoon the past was forgotten we stood hand in handFather, mother and wand'rer in tearsOnce more in the fireplace the oak log burns brightAs I promised no more would I roam As I sat in the old vacant chair by the hearthAnd I sang the dear song 'Home sweet home'
Under 48 hours until the show trial.Will the press go ballistic if the "right and correct in all lunacy" result is delivered?
Post a Comment