Christmas Eve is a night of remembrance,
A night of memories reaching into the past.
Seeking then searching, loving experiences,
Then doing one’s best to make them last.
Christmases when young were the finest,
And the younger the better they say.
When Santa came in down our chimney,
He gave mother a big kiss on the way.
Christmas under the old kitchen table,
Just waiting for the all clear to sound.
An experience I would never recommend,
But Vera Lynn’s singing was worth a pound.
Christmas in the 50s, a hit with every teenager,
Big bands at The Rink got you on your feet.
Playing the music you sang and danced to,
With Moonlight and Roses at the top of my sheet.
Christmases came and Christmases went,
But the memories of a young family are best.
They had the Christmases that we never had,
But then our parents thought theirs passed the test.