| Early Christmas morning, sneaky as can be
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| I creep across the carpet and I peek under the tree
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| Pick out a gift from Mom to me, bring it to my ear
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| Give it a little shimmy-shake and what do I hear?
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| Socks!
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| (Tube socks)
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| This is the worst gift I ever got
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| It doesn’t beep or buzz or bop or rattle in the box
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| Hey, why’d you waste the paper on a lousy pair of socks?
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| Tip-toe to the mantle, a scowl upon my brow
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| I reach up to my stocking hanging from a holly bough
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| I reach right in and feel around for Santa Claus’s loot
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| But all I find is something there to insulate my boots
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| Socks!
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| (Knee-high)
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| Santa, how could you let me down?
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| It doesn’t slip or slide or spring or make a sound that rocks
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| Hey, why’d you stuff my stocking with a lousy pair of socks?
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| O Moms and Dads across the land, be careful what you do
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| Your girls and boys might ball 'em up and toss 'em back at you
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| And next time when old Santa comes and the evening’s getting late
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| Instead of milk and cookies I will leave upon his plate
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| Socks!
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| (Argyle)
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| This is the worst gift I ever got
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| It doesn’t beep or buzz or bop or rattle in that box
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| Why’d you waste the paper on a lousy pair of socks? |