The clock chimed six in Times Square.
Excitement was in the air.
It was Christmas Eve in Manhattan.
Bright lights were everywhere.

The shoppers and workers were hurrying home
to begin the season of joy.
Presents to wrap, turkeys to cook.
Santa coming to each girl and boy.

Snow was falling in big white flakes
and settling everywhere.
Bells were ringing, carol singing
could be heard in the cold night air.

A perfect scene or so it seemed
to the joyful folk around.
No-one noticed poor old Bill
Crouched in a doorway on the ground.

Thread bare clothes, no scarf no coat,
coughing up blood from his scraggy throat.

All alone, nowhere to go.
No protection from the wind and snow.
His old bones aching, no will to live.
Nothing to gain from life.
Nothing to give.

He drifted in and out of sleep that night,
then awoke to see a wondrous sight.
A sleigh approaching from the sky.
With Santa and his reindeers coming down
from on high.

They landed beside him and whisked him away,
up high to heaven in the warm cozy sleigh.
The pearly gates opened and an angel stood there,
so calm and serene with golden hair.

Her arms outstretched with a smiling face
welcoming him in with a warm embrace.

There was no more cold nor wind or rain.
Just well being, free from pain.