| I heard my father’s voice call from the drive
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| On a cold December night
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| And we all ran outside
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| There stood the homeliest tree
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| That you’d ever want to see,
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| Looking barely alive
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| He said «I'll get the shovel, and you hold the light
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| 'Cause I’ve brought an orphan home with me tonight»
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| My father’s tree was five feet tall
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| And every leaf would struggle through the fall
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| But in the spring was born anew
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| The holly tree my father grew
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| I used to ask why mother didn’t stay
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| He’d take another drink and say,
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| «This drove her away»
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| Never could admit he drank too much
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| It was an old, familiar crutch
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| That he gave up too late
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| He’d point to that tree,
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| Saying «Take it from me
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| Learn to stand on your own or you will break»
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| My father’s tree was ten feet tall
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| And every leaf would struggle through the fall
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| But in the spring was born anew
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| The holly tree my father grew
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| And the green leaves, and the berries
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| Shined like rubies in the snow
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| And the memories last in these old photographs
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| See how much we’ve grown
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| My father’s tree can touch the sky
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| And every leaf does honor to his life
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| Forever proud, forever true
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| The holly tree my father grew |