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Sitting in rags all tattered and torn 
He gazed through the window and loved what he saw 
A raging coal fire, and some children to play 
Just what he wished for on a cold winters day 

The frost bit his finger and nibbled at his nose 
and his shoes, thin as paper, could not warm his toes 
But the warmth and the love that the family there told 
Reached into his heart and blessed his wee soul 

The dear little beggar boy was welcomed inside 
To share christmas gifts and a log of yuletide 
A meal that he'd dreamed of was served in a dish 
And the sweet little child got his christmas wish 

Sat near the roadside, a cup in his hand 
sat a merchant, a peasant, a pitiful man 
Selling flowers to towns folk, from graves freshly plucked 
He watched as the villagers tucked into roast duck 

Nose pressed to the entrance, inhaling the feast 
He licked his dry mouth as they carved the cooked beast 
A little old lady arose from her pew 
and gladly she told him "There's plenty for you" 

All grubby and dusty with an ache in her back 
A frail, crinkled lady read palms from a shack 
Not making much money, spending winter alone 
She watched families rejoicing, and wished for her own 

Trying to remember, a life led before 
With her sister and daughters, before she was poor 
A kind gent passed by her and decided to spend 
his christmas or longer, for she needed a friend 

Sat at the butchers and begging for meat 
Dusty the mongrel was just under their feet 
Just a scavenger, all dirty, they shoo'd him away 
and he got used to the harshness of being homeless each day 

Tucked beneath hedges, to escape winters bite 
He flopped down his head, and he slept for the night 
Dreaming of children who'd bring him a bone 
Rescued by a schoolgirl who gave him a home 

What do you dream of, when you're sat all alone 
Money and chocolate, a new mobile phone 
Or the simplest things that are taken for granted 
Like a home and a family, to be loved and be wanted 

Do you think of others or not have a care 
when enjoying your holidays, do you have time to spare 
See the dear little beggar boy at your windowsil 
Let him in, spare a second, 'tis the season of goodwill
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