Some think that happiness is having lots of things,
I dispute your mundane point of view and come Christmas Eve,
I would like to ride my sleight and be Santa for a night...
but I would need the fastest reindeers, not four wheels;
and down dark chimneys, I would quietly slide and soon leave
through the front door like a thief who's getting away in dim light.
I had better not see some of you peak behind a door,
you must be fully asleep, otherwise no presents at all;
I fear that not many will heed what I am saying and to those
kids listening: more gifts I'll put under their fireplace,
but to the ones who are disobedient, nothing I will give!
Hurry to bed and make those wishes and in me believe!
I hear someone giggling, not taking me seriously when I fantasize,
and just because I have a beard and white hair like your grandpa does,
it doesn't mean I am not fit to ride as a young man can and be on time...
tonight nothing can stop me from being Santa for a night:
I must hurry and load my sacks on this sleight and riding away!
Look! I am riding over towns and cities, mountains and seas...I will arrive!
No evening has ever been so quite, every street is buried in deep snow,
lampposts twinkle replacing the invisible lovely stars, only owls eyes glow...
ah, its a ghost town before midnight...usually kids stay out late and have snow fights!
Ah, slick children they are hiding behind windows with eyes as bright as lights!
But feeling their little anxious hearts beat, I shouldn't be as hard as a rock...
all this lonely, old man desires is to wish all Happy Holidays and be Santa for a night!