| I came two weeks before Christ
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| Not tender nor mild
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| From the womb I came a-wailing «Silent Night»
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| But I’ll give you something to believe in
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| You’ll see three ships sailing in
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| I’m a frail evergreen
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| Be a bauble hanging off of me
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| Pine needles a-pricking at your bare feet
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| I’ll be anything you want of me
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| A carrot nosed encased in snow
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| An angel teetering atop a tree
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| Though vomiting from vertigo
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| If you’ll be mine for Christmas
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| A doe to a deer
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| I’ll be home for Christmas
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| And home will be here
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| I’m three sheets to the wind
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| But the wind is a sleet
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| And this sheet ain’t one of snow to play beneath
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| And my nose is red from the whiskey
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| I’m Boxing Day game away
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| Shirtless cherubs on the terrace
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| Singing hymns, praying the saviour scores today
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| And that he is one, but not the only
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| I’ll be anything you want of me
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| A carrot nosed encased in snow
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| An angel teetering atop a tree
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| Though vomiting from vertigo
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| If you’ll be mine for Christmas
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| A doe to a deer
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| I’ll be home for Christmas
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| And home will be here
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| If you’re looking for me, follow any star
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| 'Cause I will be around, no matter where you are
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| I’m CCTV video late night on Christmas Eve
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| Window shopping in full Santa suit, blind drunk on the High Street
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| Never got a gift, gold, frankincense or myrrh
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| And never would’ve cared if you could just have her
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| I’m Christmas morning stumbling home up the cul-de-sac
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| Flanked by kids upon new bikes, stabilising my walk back
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| I’ll be anything you want of me
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| A carrot nosed encased in snow
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| An angel teetering atop a tree
|
| Though vomiting from vertigo
|
| If you’ll be mine for Christmas
|
| A doe to a deer
|
| I’ll be home for Christmas
|
| And home will be here
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| If you’ll be mine for Christmas
|
| A doe to a deer
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| If you’ll be mine for Christmas
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| If you’ll be mine for Christmas |