| It was the 24th of December in a Pilot travel center
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| I heard someone say anyone around here work on sleighs
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| I was headin' back home empty when this crazy idea hit me
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| I said Santa we can use my truck so Christmas won’t be late
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| Now Santa’s ridin' shotgun, Rudolph’s in the middle
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| Had to get a lot done, visit every little boy and girl in this big ol' world
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| We were doin' 90 miles an hour when I hit my last gear
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| Then we shifted to the power of a red nosed reindeer
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| Eighteen wheels in the sky, air born overdrive
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| We gave three point one billion toys away
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| In a Peterbilt sleigh
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| He jumped out and down a chimney, then popped right back out a-grinnin'
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| Milk drippin' from his moustache and cookie crumbs in his beard
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| He’d do a little ho-ho-hoin' and say let’s get this big rig rollin'
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| We’d blast off like a rocket while I was hangin' on for life so dear
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| Sorry Rudolph
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| Just when I thought we pulled the last toy out of that truck
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| Santa did a little dance, winked and grinned
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| And magically it filled back up |