12/25/2017
Twas the Night before Christmas, and down at the Lodge�Not a gavel was stirring, and in the hodge-podge
Of aprons and jewels and chairs East and West�You could savor the silence, most gladly divest
All metal and mineral, it mattered not,�Since Christmas was nigh and the coals were still hot.
In the hearth of your homeplace, all Masons abed,�As visions of trestleboards danced in their head;
When up on the roof there arose such a clatter�Our Tiler jumped up to see what was the matter!
He picked up his sword and ran fast to the door,�Three knocks shook the panels — he wondered “What for?”
He answered the knocking with raps of his own,�And once the door opened he saw, with a moan
Of delight it was Santa, all jolly and red�Except for one notable feature instead!
Upon his large finger he wore what we knew�Was compasses and square on a background of blue!
“Why Santa!” he shouted and lowered his blade,�“I see you’re a Mason!” the Tiler relayed.
He looked tow’rd the Master’s most dignified chair�And said, voice near trembling, “Most Worshipful Sir
There’s a Gentleman properly clothed at the gate! ”�The Master replied, “Let’s allow him — but wait!
You tell me a Gentleman, but I don’t see�His Apron beneath that red suit, can it be
Our visitor hasn’t been properly raised?�Must we offer a test that is suitably phrased?”
“I do beg your pardon,” ol’ Santa said quick�As he pulled up his coat and displayed not a stick
But a cane with engraving, two balls did appear�And oh, what an apron, he wore and held dear!
Adorned like the Master’s, complete with a sign�Of “Lodge Number One, the North Pole” on one line!
“Now let this man enter,” the Master declared,�And once in the Lodge room, the Brethren all stared,
For Santa was wearing a jewel not seen�For many a century — there in between
The fur of his coat and the splendid red collar�Gleamed two golden reindeer that shone line a dollar!
“It’s Donner and Blitzen, who I must confess�Are actually images brought from the West
By my Warden, a craftsman like none in the world!”�And with a great laugh from his bag he unfurled
An ear of fine corn, and some oil from the East,�“My friends I have plenty, tonight we will feast
On all that is good! We are Masons, kind sir!”�A murmur went throughout the Lodge, quite a stir,
As presents and promises flew from his sack!�This Santa, a Mason, showed he had a knack
For making this Christmas the best you could glean,�And soon even Deacons were laughing, they’d seen
On this very night only happiness reigned!�This jolly Saint Nicholas quickly explained
That only a Mason could be so inclined�To make all kids happy, make all people find
A Christmas so special, yes, Santa was right!�Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!
Brother David Hunter