A Masonic Christmas Story
       
          'Twas nigh afore Christmas at the Freemason's Hall 
          (Civil Services' regular), the order was tall;
          Reams from Grand Lodge, a notice of motion,
          A ballot or two and a pause for devotion
          To brethren departed of the year before
          Plus a candidate who would soon walk the floor. 
          Our own Junior Warden, when faced with the crunch
          Said, "Let's all call off and go upstairs for lunch."
          The Master replied, as Masters all do,
          Intoned in a voice reserved for the few,
          "Before we partake of the fellowship there
          Is the summons to read and a ballot to clear.
          Not to mention the candidate, he's quaking with dread
          At the stories of whether the goat has been fed." 
          The Master, exhorting the brethren to work,
          A firm grip on the gavel, he turned with a jerk
          To the Secretary, putting a shine to each lens,
          Polished both to a luster and reached for his pens. 
          "It's half past the hour," the Master then winced
          At the stuff left to do and remained unconvinced
          That the evening would go as smooth as he'd hoped
          Since he'd gone to the trouble of feeding the goat.
          "Though the ballot's behind us, the notice is gone,
          Grand Lodge is finished, the work still goes on." 
          The Inner Guard knew as the Tyler did too
          That knock, knock and knock was the right thing to do.
          Sidebenchers slept soundly and were only stirred 
          When the crack of the candidate's knuckles was heard 
          The slight groan that penetrated lips that were pursed
          Appeared to the Deacon as just a light curse. 
          Onward they travel, the guide and the man
          Seeking truth and enlightenment wherever they can
          The secrets were given, the grip and the token,
          Obligation was offered, the words then were spoken.
          Though never, not once, was one heard to gloat
          As the Entered Apprentice never did meet the goat. 
          The evening now ended, the candidate clear
          Junior Warden entreats from the South us to hear
          The oath we look forward to right from the start,
          "Happy to meet and sorry to part." 
          Christmas had come to Civil Service that night
          As men came together under the light
          Giving freely of time as a labor of love
          As we bent to the task of the Most High above. 
          To Stewards, to Deacons, the Tyler, the 'Guard
          The Wardens, the Master, who all work so hard,
          To Past Masters steady, Sidebenchers too
          To Treasurer, Chaplain, the D. of C. who
          Help carry the Lodge, year in and year out
          Season's greeting to you and without a doubt,
          To your family extended, a warm Christmas time.
          Thank the G.A.O.T.U. we've run out of rhyme! 
          C.S.L. (Laurie) Lund & R.G. (Ron) Dixon