When the first snowflakes begin to come down,
And the wind whistles sharp and the branches turn brown,
I won’t mind the cold, though it numbs my fingers,
For it brings the time nearer, when Santa Claus comes!
And the wind whistles sharp and the branches turn brown,
I won’t mind the cold, though it numbs my fingers,
For it brings the time nearer, when Santa Claus comes!
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