The Night Dear Santa Claus Wept

 THE NIGHT DEAR SANTA CLAUS WEPT  © Copyright

Author William `Scobie' Victor Gray

(Scobie is a nickname his buddies in Vienna, MO gave him.  
This is a poem dad wrote years ago inspired by his cousin
Allen Gray who rode the rails during the 30's. )

“There was no shame among the Hobo’s as they let their emotions go.  

Each eye as though a fountain spilling teardrops in the snow.

All eyes are now on Santa 

for he appeared as though to speak,

He raised his hand quite slowly 

and passed it along his cheek.

Why? the world must come to know,
tears then dashed Orr his beard 
freezing gently in the snow.

All deer’s in the hitch stood at attention 

while most of the nation slept.
Rudolph's nose glowed err so brightly 

the night while Santa Claus wept.

There’s a delightful aroma,
as you stroll the pathway to the camp.
An open fire is burning briskly, 

providing the hobo his only lamp.

Above the fire sits an open pot,
Near the fall of evening dew.
In the pot is a legendary dish
appropriately named Hobo stew.

Large stones were placed in order, 

providing a wind brake to the fire.
And a wall preventing a spread through camp.
For the flames would flare much higher.

In the foothills of the beautiful Ozarks,

 there nestled along a peaceful stream.
Quietly gathered a dozen hobo’s 

fulfilling a life long dream.

Many decades, have flown quickly 

as they passed by in their flight, 

Aged hobo’s have gathered to the camp 

on this special night.

Uncle Ben is relating his story, 

as he gently stokes the fire,
He tells of why these men, while young, 

had worked at jobs for hire.

As firelight dances along each cheek, 

a saddened story is told.
Lines along their foreheads,

 deepened father time hath took it’s toll.

Flashbacks of the depression, 

sweeps across Ben’s lonely mind.
Wedding bells had tolled

 with joy just a year before in time.

Tis fifty years this coming morn

 since Christlene was born,
twas a joy to have and hold.
Carolenes life is ebbing quickly,
brother Ben has now been told.

A staff of doctors worked most frantically,
til the break of Christmas day.
While giving the burst of life to one,
a precious life slips now away.

There was no shame among the Hobo’s as they let their emotions go.  

Each eye as though a fountain spilling teardrops in the snow.

Devastated with his losses, 

seemingly no where else to turn, 

a couple is sought to adopt his child.
As best for her it’s learned.

With communication lines disrupted,
heavy losses facing Ben,
he hears not from his child,
for he swears he knows not when.

Ben moves along with his story, 

again he stokes the fire,
To the back of his head he adjusts his hat,
as flames then flare much higher.  

He speaks somewhat of the depression,
and how serious most things became,  
Many people took their lives, he winced, 

unable to accept such strain.

Time tightened down in the thirties,
many will attest so much to,
Patched clothes on their backs, 

large holes were in their shoes.

There was no money in the country,
neer a job to be had.
Ben explained why his feet took to wandering

 as quite a young lad.

 There was no shame among the Hobo’s as they let their emotions go. 

 Each eye as though a fountain spilling tear drops in the snow.  

His powerful voice suddenly halted for what, 

we know not why.
For a light as though a beacon, 

streaks across the midnight sky.

In the still of the night we listen,
as a mighty voice rings clear
sending a message o’er all the earth each year, 

this time of year.

Ben discontinues his story, 

as he made an attempt to rise,

He mumbled somewhat under his breadth,

A sudden stare came to his eyes.

But for the support of many friends,

He’d went falling on his face.
Santa now spots the campfire, 

and observes what’s taking place,

To his team he demandingly speaks
as snow boils neath their feet.
HO! Dancer and Prancer,
Comet and Blitzen.

There’s a serious plight to a noble man, 

his life is quickly driften
Hurriedly lifts Ben to his arms, 

and places him in the seat.

Due north to Santas workshop.
Beyond the speed of light,
To mend a special heartbeat 

on this special night.

Santa whips up a healing potion 

with a flare as hobo stew.
In the twinkle of an eyelash
steps Ben out, all smiles, as good as new.

The slay then streaking southward 

veered somewhat, with a slight delay.
Ben is totally beside himself, 

learning now who enters the slay,

Back to the camp sight,
as they alight there in the cold,
by each hand he grasps a hand,
is the way the story is told.

In his left more precious than silver....In his right more precious than gold.

All faces are beaming brightly 

as each flash a beautiful smile.
On his right stands a lovely daughter,
On his left a grand and great grandchild,

More precious were they,
than all nuggets ever found in a mountain stream,
Or all crowned jewels 

ever imbibed in a heavenly dream.

More precious than all special gifts 

ever held in the hand.  
Was Santas astounding gifts,
to this loving man.

“There was no shame among the Hobo’s as they let their emotions go.  

Each eye as though a fountain spilling teardrops in the snow.

All eyes are now on Santa 

for he appeared as though to speak, 

he raised his hand
quite slowly and passed it along his cheek.  

Why? the world must come to know, 

tears then dashed Orr his beard 

freezing gently in the snow.  

All Deer’s in the hitch stood at attention

 while most of the nation slept.  

Rudolph's nose glowed err so brightly

 this night while Santa Claus wept.

In a brace of years from this event

 not a truth each one can hide.
His frame was totally spent,
a halt was in his stride.

One day while strolling along a stream

 while birds sung there, with pride.
Sat Ben down near a huge Oak log

 and there he peacefully died.

Scholastically while both were young,
they had won the cities pride.
Thus they moved Coralenes tomb 

to the new sight and placed them side by side.

They buried them in the Old Church yard,
at the base of that huge new tower, 

on each of the graves they placed a Rose.
Causing all passing by to admire,

To the amazement of them all,  
They rapidly grew,
And there they would grow no higher.
And there they tied in a true love knot,
Neath the dome of that magnificent spire.

As a wind swept  gentle breeze, While young, 

God’s loving heart they strove to please,  
Their hearts had opened  oh so wide,
Permitting God’s precious love to rush inside.

“There was no shame among the Hobo’s as they let their emotions go.  

Each eye as though a fountain spilling tear drops in the snow.  

All eyes are now on Santa 

for he appeared as though to speak, 

he raised his hand quite slowly 

and passed it along his cheek.  

Rudolph's nose glowed err so brightly

 this night while Santa Claus wept.