The beautiful guitar I mostly-play,
Dave’s flute and twelve-string, Janet’s dulcet cello
And Jeff’s tin whistles join, one winter’s day
To lead O’Brien’s Pub in merry bellow.
The words are garbled, some don’t know the tune,
And calls for Free Bird happen frequently,
But none to Christmas carols is immune,
Especially when all are in one key.
And this is why we come from year to year,
With different leaders and with different casts
To raise a glass or three of Christmas beer
To keep tradition, hoping memory lasts.
Departed or far-flung though now we be,
We’re joined in time by our shared melody.