| There were always snowflakes falling down
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| Slowly whirling lazily landing on the ground
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| On our way to church on christmas night
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| That’s about how things are printed in my mind
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| When I was young snowflakes were whiter
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| On those Christmas nights, those Christmas nights
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| Safely gliding 'cross the snow at daddy’s hand
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| In a white world, asking million things like small boys can
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| From the churchbell tower trumpets used to play
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| The well known old tunes, through the cold finding their way
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| When I was young old tunes were younger
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| On those Christmas nights, those Christmas nights
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| A new born baby he was my brother and in another way my Lord
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| The virgin lady, she was my mother
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| 'Cause only small boys can afford to be so close to God
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| We went early to make sure a view
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| On the stable aiming for the first or second view
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| Joseph always seemed to wink his eye
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| Just for me alone. |
| and daddy told me not to lie
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| When I was young statues were living
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| On those Christmas nights those Christmas nights
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| A new born baby he was my brother and another way my Lord
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| The virgin lady she was my mother
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| Cause only small boys can afford to be so close to God |