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