Songwriters: Jamie Hartman / Rory Graham
Human lyrics © Warner-tamerlane Publishing Corp., Reservoir 416, Songs With A Pure Tone, Askia Worldwide Publishing, Maxwell And Carter Global Publishing, Stonestreet Works, Brandon Skeie Publishing, Marquise Cut Publishing


They could hear the sounds of a busy happy hour as they arrived through the open side door. Scanning around to look for an empty table, the 3 women stood stock still.

“Over there!” Christy shouted above the noise of the bar.

Alex provided a nod of her head and took the lead in heading over to the available table. It was small and round, 4 wooden stools surrounding it. They approached the table and sat down, placing their phones face down as they took their jackets off.

“What we all having?” Alex asked, making eye contact with Christy and Jessica.

“Dirty martini.” With a smirk, Alex replied, “Shaken not stirred?” She was met with one raised eyebrow and a playful smile.


“Vodka coke, please darling.”

“Sure thing.” As Alex turned to walk towards the bar, the music stopped her in her tracks.

The sound of the guitar, rising up from seemingly nowhere, transported everyone into what felt like the deep south. The musicians on stage played their instruments to perfection. The accompanied percussion and accordion added tremendous weight to the experience.

The voice that appeared from the back of the stage caused the bar to fall completely silent.

“Maybe I’m foolish,

Maybe I’m blind..”

The female voice rose up from the depths. The singer walked forwards, microphone in hand. Her blonde hair fell perfectly to brush against her shoulders as she moved.

I’m only human after all,

Don’t put your blame on me.”

Alex stood completely transfixed. Her brown eyes met green and she swore she felt the earth move. She could feel everything, every goosebump, every beat of her overeager heart.

Don’t ask my opinion,

Don’t ask me to lie.”

As the beat picked up, Alex looked briefly around at her friends. The were both sat, heads nodding. Jessica had one finger tapping on the table, Christy had her phone up and pointed at the stage.

“Some people got real problems,

Some people out o’ luck,

Some people think I should solve ’em.

Alex found herself forgetting completely about the drinks she had been on her way to buy. Her feet remained rooted to the floor, her knees buckling when once again sparkling green eyes connected with hers. She sank slowly into the seat below her, not noticing how Christy’s phone had moved to capture her.

“I ain’t no prophet or messiah,

Should go looking somewhere higher.

That last note drove a shockwave through the crowd. A shared feeling of awe could be felt by everyone present.

Don’t put your blame on me.

This is Tradition

…and in the darkness, stood a Christmas tree. The lights from each branch reflected in the eyes of those gathered. The evening was still and calm, and as more people approached, a lull met the atmosphere. The voices of children rose as they gained their confidence. Teachers stood by their side, encouraging, coaching, arms conducting as they moved their arms in time with the words coming from the younger generation…

“It was on a starry night, when the hills were bright
Earth lay sleeping, sleeping calm and still.
Then in a cattle shed, in a manger bed
a boy was born, king of all the world.”

Families with torches shining down on the lyrics in their hands, paper blowing in the wind. Proud fathers and grandfathers with thick scarfs and gloves, ensuring the rest of the family are able to see. Leaning close together, gathering warmth. Smiles bright as they watch and listen to their choir…

“And all the angels sang for him,
the bells of heaven rang for him
for a boy was born, king of all the world.”

The community together as one. This is tradition, of gathering and coming together, surrounded by the ones who light up their lives. Voices that are now louder and more vivid reach the end of their performance…

“Soon the shepherds came that way where the baby lay
and were kneeling, kneeling by his side.
And their hearts believed again for the peace of men,
for a boy was born, king of all the world.”

And as their voices sing the last note, there is music. The live band of local musicians begin to play the next carol. Every member of the community joins in joyfully.

This is tradition.