It’s been a year to the day,
But I feel so alone and far away,
From snow and stockings on your mantle,
My boots are filled with sand to my ankle.

They say it’s that time on the news,
But we’re still wearing helmets on the loose,
Your decorations are a’hangin,
But there’s still fighting up in Sangin.

Outside you hear a sleigh bell,
But for us there is only hell,
On your sofa reading a mag,
Not thinking of us while we’re on stag.

A kid sucking a frosty lolly,
For us there’s a medic, fixing Tommy,
How many times have we come near it?
As we fight for your Christmas spirit.

When you’re on your traditional walk,
Stop, think of us or maybe just talk,
Your Christmas pudding maybe lovely,
But we are dying for queen and country.