Two sisters young climb up a tree

In the snow of Christmas day

They peek over the fence to watch, to see

How the neighbor children play.

They climb back down, they go inside

To see mother passed out on the floor.

The sisters take to their room and hide,

Spirits broken, hearts sore. 

 

Ten years on, and its Christmas again, 

And baby sister is a mother of five. 

The tree is lit, but her husband's on the gin, 

And he's asking for the keys to drive.

His pleading demand, the mother resists

She knows he won't make it through town

So he raises his voice as well as his fists

Throwing both tree and children to the ground. 

 

Some twenty years pass, it's Christmas once more.

The youngest son is now a man.

But like a child, he lies asleep on the floor,

As I, his daughter, hold his hand.

To his love of drink, the family curse,

He's lost  wealth and wife the same.

He has fallen from grace, and what is worse, 

He has no one but himself to blame. 

 

Ten years from then, and I am grown

With high hopes and level mind. 

I am fuilled with intentions to atone

The Legacy those others left behind.

I will change the way the bricks were laid. 

Despite my family's sins.

I will change the path my heritage has paved

And let my home not be cursed by drink again.