Centuries took holidays before these days became desperately clear that chariots full of Christmas cheer could never draw the child near but this year one of the last remaining years Santa Claus is a sniper on the roof of Macy's picking off the customers splattering packages and miscellaneous toes everywhere. Missionaries built milleniums and caravans of cucumbers were exchanged before the sin of sharing was uncovered and the chocolate bayonets were deranged but this year one of the last remaining years the soul brother reindeer having nothing but nothing to fear have destroyed all possessions as the holiest of gifts. Hymns have swallowed histories and faded into love before a winter full of autumns had covered up their harmonies but this year though one of the last remaining years the fading matinee idol clutching the memories of his almost unforgettable performance turns sadly away from the diminishing applause of his most terrified believers.
This poem was part of the liner notes to the CD reissue of I Ain't Marching Anymore. It could not have been part of the original album since it was copyrighted in 1967.
Thanks to Siouxie D for typing this in.
21 Apr 97 trent