| The time has come for festivity
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| For Christmas pudding and revelry
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| But as I passed a house the other night
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| I heard this little voice, so clear and bright
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| There are no lights on our Christmas tree
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| We must not spoil the tele-vee
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| No party games, no mistletoe
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| Just whistle «Wenceslas,» and out you go
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| 'Bout once a year I become a square
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| I love to feel the tinsel in my hair
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| I love to hear the songs of days gone by
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| But Dad and me, we don’t see eye to eye
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| The Christmas crackers from Uncle Alf
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| They lie unopened upon the shelf
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| Dad has forbid them, but we’re hoping he
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| Will think the bangs come from «N.Y.P.D»
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| There are no lights on our Christmas tree
|
| We must not spoil the tele-vee
|
| No party games, no mistletoe
|
| Just whistle «Wenceslas» and out you go
|
| Some carol singers came to our door
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| I’ve never seen Dad so mad before
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| He grabbed the leader by the coat
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| And tried to ram his lantern down his throat
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| When I grow up to be a man
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| There’ll be no television in my plan
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| With laughter gay, my house will ring
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| I never want to hear my family sing
|
| There are no lights on our Christmas tree
|
| We must not spoil the tele-vee
|
| No party games, no mistletoe
|
| Just whistle «Wenceslas» and out you go
|
| There are no lights on our Christmas tree
|
| We must not spoil the tele-vee
|
| No party games, no mistletoe
|
| Just whistle «Wenceslas» and out you go
|
| No party games, no mistletoe
|
| Just whistle «Wenceslas» and out you go |