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There’s a star atop the tree,
But still it’s no man’s land
Between the couches in the den.
For all our coaxing and our care
We couldn’t mend the
Icy words and frosty glares
Of friends who were not speaking.

But a German lieutenant
Walked across to the eggnog;
“Who’s up for Monopoly?” Asked a Brit.
And laughing, warring factions
Joined in the game
And up rose a cheerful carol.

Tomorrow the mortar will fly again
And hurtful words and missiles,
But in the kitchen we sang along,
And Joy to the World
Was our happy song.