| We wake to a Christmas snow
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| And wonder what will be in store
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| Better hurry not to waste this good light
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| Chores get done with frosty hands
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| You pause to count the hours ahead
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| And reflect on the kinder years before us
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| You remember these and other times
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| With a heavy heart you settle on the dreams of your mind
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| At the turn of the clock
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| They’ll be mistletoe and molasses
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| At the turn
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| Afternoon comes with a start
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| You make your way down windy roads
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| Past the places you recall as old haunts
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| At the corner of the town you see a lamp post shining bright
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| Once forgotten memories make you cry
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| You remember these and other times
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| With a heavy heart you settle on the dreams of your mind
|
| At the turn of the clock
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| They’ll be mistletoe and molasses
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| At the turn
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| Let me see the hope of our love
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| For I don’t know if we will meet again… |