Christmas comes but once a year, When in the northern hemisphere, The cold winds blow, the sun goes down, Now every day some children drown. The Christmas storys full of hope, Yet life and death hang by a rope. Its not the sword of Damocles, Its shipwreck in the angry seas.

The icy waves show no remorse. But terror is the driving force. Ten million people, maybe more, Are out there knocking at our door, For years weve boasted of our wealth, Yet cannot fund the nations health. We cannot house our countrys poor, And so we guard the nations shore.

Whats Christmas if we cannot cope. With those who have arrived in hope? But what about the people here: The old and needy live in fear, The wards are full, the care homes few, Classrooms crowded, and thousands queue At shelters, hostels and the food bank?

This question always draws a blank.

Now terror stalks the Paris streets: Diners murdered in their seats. This carnage comes from overseas, But doesnt come with refugees. My heart cries out for charity; My head thinks of reality. And what is worse I feel so hard, Should I think Not in my back yard.

Andrew Ailes is a British foreign news veteran living in London.