• Snow falls gently to the cold ground, covering the grass,
    And the ponds are all frozen and resemble slabs of glass.
    The carolers are abundant, the sing unto the night,
    as the stars from it's sky brighten up the sight.

    I walk around the town, snowflakes on my hat,
    I come to my little house and stomp my feet upon the mat.
    I walk inside and and see the tree,
    a tiny thing even smaller than B.

    But I don't worry, it's okay,
    Because it's up Christmas Eve and down Boxing Day.
    We don't have a fireplace, we have a door.
    And a window or two, or maybe four.

    But Christmas is going to be fine, I know,
    Because it's not the presents, or even the snow.
    It's the great old time I have among my kin,
    And I can't think of an ending, so I'll just say, "Fin."