A spirit of Christmas

 

 

 

The snow lay upon the ground

The spirit of a old native Indian rode into town,

He told stories of hunting buffalo

And how his tribe lived off the land,

But would anybody give

This old Indian a helping hand,

There was no food to be found

Just deep snow on the ground,

The Indian looked old and pale

His cloths were ragged and torn,

The Indian asked food and a drink

And a bed to rest his head,

He would not ask for any more,

So spare a thought this Christmas

Not just for the spirit of a old Indian

But for all the homeless people

Trying to make a living off the land

This Christmas,

why don’t you give them a helping hand.

By Thomas Sims