This Section Is A Christmas Tree
This section is a Christmas tree:
Loaded with pretty toys for you
Behold the blocks, the Noah's arks,
The popguns painted red and blue
This section is a Christmas tree:
Loaded with pretty toys for you
Behold the blocks, the Noah's arks,
The popguns painted red and blue
The little Jesus came to town;
The wind blew up, the wind blew down;
Out in the street the wind was bold;
Now who would house Him from the cold
Give me this day a faith not personal,
As follows:
The American people fully
With assurance policies, righteous and harmed,
Mr
Smiggs was a gentleman,
And he lived in London town;
His wife she was a good kind soul,
Love came down at Christmas,
Love all lovely, love divine;
Love was born at Christmas,
Star and angels gave the sign
A farmer's wife, both young and gay,
And fresh as op'ning buds of May;
Had taken to herself, a Spouse,
And plighted many solemn vows,
I
Sound over all waters, reach out from all lands,
The chorus of voices, the clasping of hands;
Sing hymns that were sung by the stars of the morn,
The day's at end and there's nowhere to go,
Draw to the fire, even this fire is dying;
Get up and once again politely
Invite the ladies toward the
It's mighty lonesome-like and drear
Above the Wild the moon rides high,
And shows up sharp and
The emptiness of earth and sky;
Christmas is come and every
Makes room to give him welcome nowE'en want will dry its tears in
And crown him wi' a holly
Tho tramping 'neath a winters skyO'er snow track paths and rhymey
Ah,
Christ,
I love you rings to the wild
And I must think a little of the past:
I'm walking backwards for Christmas,
Across the Irish Sea,
I'm walking backwards for Christmas,
It's the only thing for me