The back kettle holds the stew tonight,
potatoes, carrots, opinions with beef,
our Christmas feast,
baked breed, butter and gravy, hot and warm,
like holding the one you desire in you arms,
winter winds howl outside,
as the cold rains pour on down,
we say our blessing for such good food,
but the one wish to say is, I love you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem