How bless'd, how envied, were our life, Could we but scape the poulterer's knife! But man, curs'd man, on Turkeys preys, And Christmas shortens all our days: Sometimes with oysters we combine, Sometimes assist the savory chine; From the low peasant to the lord, The Turkey smokes on every board.

Enthusiasm for his life, enthusiasm for his job, enthusiasm to get to his family for Christmas.

This is the month, and this the happy morn, Wherein the Son of Heaven's eternal King, Of wedded maid and virgin mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring, For so the holy sages once did sing, That He our deadly forfeit should release, And with His Father work us a perpetual peace.

Christians awake, salute the happy morn Whereon the Saviour of the world was born.

When I go to Florida for Christmas I always take my nieces and nephews out on excursions, ... I become like a big kid again. We go on all the big rides at the theme parks or I stick them in go-karts where their feet can't quite reach the pedals. I think that if you can continue to have the child at heart you may grow old physically but you will stay young mentally.

Ring out ye crystal spheres! Once bless our human ears, If ye have power to touch our senses so; And let your silver chime Move in melodious time, And let the bass of Heaven's deep organ blow; And with your ninefold harmony Make up full consort to the angelic symphony.