| I can remember back when we were small
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| We would start counting the days 'till it all
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| Would begin once again, the most magic of times
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| That started us dreaming of wonders we’d find
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| The down from the attic our father would bring
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| Boxes of ornaments, tinsel and things
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| Like old family treasures, a wreath for the door
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| It was almost like we’d never seen them before
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| It’s Christmas
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| We’ll put up the holly and mistletoe
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| It’s Christmas
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| See the soft coloured lights through the falling snow
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| It’s Christmas
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| Cards to be sent, carols to be sung
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| It’s Christmas
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| With each passing day, the excitement would rise
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| When no one was looking, my brother and I
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| Would peek at the presents wrapped so prettily
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| And carefully put them back under the tree
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| When Christmas Eve came, we could finally say
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| That morning would only be one sleep away
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| We were so excited by what lay ahead
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| That Timmy and I would go straight off to bed
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| It’s Christmas
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| We’ll put up the holly and mistletoe
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| It’s Christmas
|
| See the soft coloured lights through the falling snow
|
| It’s Christmas
|
| Cards to be sent, carols to be sung
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| It’s Christmas
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| Then we’d get up early and run down the hall
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| To wake up our parents, and then we would all
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| Still in our pyjamas, pass the gifts out
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| While wrappings and ribbons were thrown all about
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| It’s Christmas
|
| We’ll put up the holly and mistletoe
|
| It’s Christmas
|
| See the soft coloured lights through the falling snow
|
| It’s Christmas
|
| Cards to be sent, carols to be sung
|
| It’s Christmas |