Marine's Prayer

When A Marine Goes To Heaven.

You can keep your Army Khaki,

You can keep your Navy Blue.

I have the worlds best fighting man,

To introduce to you.

His Uniform is different,

The best you've ever seen.

The Germans call him "Devil Dog,"

His real name is "Marine."

He was born on Parris Island,

The place where God Forgot.

The sand is eighteen inches deep,

The sun is blazing hot.

He gets up every morning,

Before the rising sun.

He'll run a hundred miles and more,

Before the day is done.

He's deadly with a rifle,

A bayonet made of steel.

He took the warrior's calling card,

He's mastered how to kill.

And when he gets to Heaven

St. Peter he will tell,

One more Marine reporting sir,

I've served my time in Hell.

So listen all you young girls,

To what I have to say:

Go find yourself a young Marine,

To love you every day.

He'll hug you and he'll kiss you,

And treat you like a queen.

There is no better fighting man:

A Rifleman's Prayer

Dear God, my Father, through Thy Son Hear the prayer of a warrior son. Give my eyes a vision keen To see the thing that must be seen. A steady hand I ask of Thee The feel of wind on land or sea. Let me not ever careless be Of life or limb or liberty. For Justice sake a quiet heart And grace and strength to do my part. To God and Country, Home and Corps Let me be faithful ever more. Amen

A Marine's Christmas Poem

or

The Night Santa Became A Marine..

There are different versions of this.

'Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone

In a one-bedroom house made of plaster and stone.

I had come down the chimney with presents to give

And to see whom in this house did live.

As I looked all around a strange sight I did see,

No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.

No stockings by the fire, just boots full of sand.

On the wall hung pictures of a faraway land.

With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,

A sobering thought soon came to my mind.

For this house was different, unlike any I'd seen.

This was the house of a U.S. Marine.

I'd heard stories about them, so I had to see more.

I walked down the hallway and pushed open the door.

And there he lay sleeping. Silent. Alone.

Curled up on the floor of his one-bedroom home.

He seemed so gentle, his face so serene.

Not how I pictured a U.S. Marine.

Was this the hero of whom I'd just read?

Curled up on his poncho, a floor for his bed?

His head was clean shaven, his face weathered tan.

I soon understood this was more than a man.

For I realized families that I had just seen that night

Owed their lives to these men, so willing to fight.

Soon around the nation the children would play

And grown-ups would celebrate a bright Christmas Day.

They enjoyed freedom each day and all year

Because of Marines like the one lying here.

I couldn't help but wonder how many lay alone

On a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home.

Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye.

I dropped to my knees and I started to cry.

He must have awakened for I heard a rough voice.

"Santa, Don't cry. This is my choice.

I fight for freedom. I don't ask for more.

My life is my God, my Country, my Corps."

With that he rolled over, drifted off into sleep.

I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.

I watched him for hours. So silent. So still.

I noticed he shivered from the cold night's chill.

So I took off my jacket, the one made of red,

To cover this Marine from his toes to his head.

Then I put on his tee-shirt of scarlet and gold,

With an eagle, globe and anchor emblazoned so bold.

Although it barely fit me, I began to swell with pride.

For one shining moment, I was the Marine Corps deep inside.

I didn't want to leave him, so quiet in the night,

This guardian of honor, so willing to fight.

But, half asleep, he rolled over, and in a voice clean and pure,

Said, "Carry on, Santa, it's Christmas Day - All Secure."

One look at my watch and I knew he was right.

Merry Christmas, my friend. Semper Fi - and good night!