Some Mother's Boy

    Where is your boy this Christmas morn, 
    Your bright eyed boy with the happy smile 
    That started out on his own last year 
    To make his way in the world awhile? 
    Is he coming home for the Christmas feast 
    Or is he now too far away? 
    And maybe out of work and broke 
    And can't come home for Christmas Day. 

    Oh no, our boy is home this year. 
    He has a good position too. 
    There's a Christmas tree and lots of cheer, 
    And presents too for him and you. 
    But have you noticed as you pass 
    Along our streets, upon your way 
    The many, many boys you meet, 
    That can't go home for Christmas day. 

    A sad smile plays across each face 
    That just awhile ago was glad. 
    A wistful longing takes the place 
    Of joy in the heart of every lad. 
    He's tried so hard to earn some pay. 
    He's trying still to keep a smile. 
    He hates to let the folks back home 
    Know he is down and out today. 

    And can't come home for Christmas too, 
    Can't even send the folks a card. 
    What can he do, it's not his fault. 
    He's done his best; he's tried so hard. 
    He's waited for his turn to come. 
    He's watched the ads, he's hunted work. 
    His money's gone, he's on the 'bum.' 
    Will Mother think he is a shirk? 

    What will she think when Christmas mail 
    Brings her no message from her boy? 
    Where is he on this blessed morn? 
    It casts a shadow o'er the joy 
    That she had hoped to share this year. 
    Perhaps a check from her dear son 
    To add a touch of Christmas cheer. 
    Alas, no message still has come. 

    He doesn't write home often now. 
    Sometimes can't get a postage stamp. 
    These last few months he's sunk down to 
    The level of a common tramp. 
    He does not have the heart to write. 
    She must not know how tough it seems 
    To work for hours grubbing trash 
    For just some coffee and some beans.
    She must not know he sleeps at night 
    Without a blanket on the floor 
    Of some old, open gambling house 
    With many, many hundreds more. 
    If he could only get back home. 
    No neighbors scorns he'd ever fear. 
    Rather be tied to apron strings 
    Than standing in a bread line here. 

    Oh people of our city fair, 
    Let's open up our homes this year. 
    Invite at least one homesick boy 
    To share with us our Christmas cheer. 
    Let's give some lad a Christmas feast, 
    The warmth of cheery Christmas joy. 
    Some little gift, a clean warm bed 
    For each one is, some Mother's boy. 

    Next year it may be yours or mine 
    Who meets misfortune on his way 
    And can't get work or cash in time 
    To come back home for Christmas day. 
    You'd want to know that he was fed 
    And shared a little Christmas cheer 
    And had a nice and clean, warm bed 
    If he's not home with you next year. 

    The spirit of the Bethlehem babe 
    Whose birth we celebrate today 
    Who came to earth a humble child 
    And in an ancient manger lay. 
    His message to the world was love, 
    To feed the hungry, clothe the poor, 
    And if you would his grace receive, 
    Turn no unfortunate from your door. 

    The eastern star that led wise men 
    To where the humble Christ child lay 
    Still sends its shafts of holy light 
    To shine on whom his words obey. 
    So may this star of heaven renown 
    Shine o'er our city fair this year. 
    Let all the world this Christmas morn 
    Know that the love of Christ is here. 

    The news will spread from place to place 
    How well we've served our Lord this year. 
    Our city leads the world in love 
    By lending all the needy cheer 
    And many hearts in many homes 
    Will bless us for the good we've done 
    For who knows when or where the place 
    Someone may have to help our son.
 
Mary Emily Gould Canova
Las Vegas, Nevada
December 1931
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