Twas the Night Before Christmas, and the Barn Light Stayed On

A small thank you to the people behind the food on our tables.

Christmas has a way of making the world feel quiet and finished, as if everything can be put down for a while. But farming does not work like that. Animals still need feeding, checking, bedding, milking, watching, and sometimes saving, whether it is Christmas Eve or a random Tuesday in February.

I wanted to write something that holds that truth gently, and says thank you without turning farmers into a slogan. If you have ever worked a Christmas on a farm, or if you have ever eaten a Christmas meal without thinking too hard about what it took to get there, I hope this lands with you.

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’Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the town
The shutters were pulled and the lights all turned down,
The stockings were hung and the mince pies laid near,
In hopes that the morning would soon bring good cheer.

The children lay dreaming of sweets and of snow,
While carols went quiet on radio low,
And families, cosy, were settling to rest
With full hearts and blankets pulled up to the chest.

But out past the streetlights, beyond gate and lane,
Where hedges stand dark in the wind and the rain,
A barn light stayed on with a steady, pale glow
And work carried on where the cold shadows grow.

For Christmas or not, there are jobs that won’t wait,
A latch to be lifted, a chain on a gate,
A trough to be filled and a drinker to check,
A bedding to shake and a pen to inspect.

The cows still need milking, the sheep still need care,
The pigs still want feeding, the hens still need there,
And somewhere a calf that arrived far too soon,
Needs warmth and a watch through the night and the moon.

So boots hit the yard with a crunch and a squelch,
With torchlight that bounces off puddle and welch,
With breath in white clouds and with hands stiff and sore,
They head out again, as they’ve done before.

Now steady, now patient, now careful, now kind,
With weather behind them and worry in mind,
They move through the dark with a practiced, calm grace,
Reading the night on each animal’s face.

No sleigh bells, no reindeer, no glittering flight,
Just head torches cutting a tunnel of light,
Just straw in the air and the warm, living sound
Of creatures that settle when comfort is found.

They speak not of heroes, they don’t make a show,
They just do the doing, because it is so,
Because food on the table begins in the cold,
With early alarms and with work that is bold.

And when you sit down with your family today,
With plates that are steaming and laughter at play,
Remember the farmers, still out in the night,
Keeping Christmas supplied, keeping cupboards alright.

So here’s to the ones in the wind and the rain,
Who carry on working when others refrain,
May your barns stay warm and your gates all shut tight
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

If you want a practical way to support farmers beyond the sentiment, buy British when you can, look for higher welfare, ask questions about where your food comes from, and back the people doing the work, especially when the weather is grim and the margins are tight.

Thank you for reading this year, whether you are here as a free subscriber, a paid supporter, or someone who has just found me today.

Merry Christmas, and I hope the days ahead bring you warmth, rest, and good company.

H x