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by Robert (Bob) Moore © 2015
Santa came to Gorton, in the middle of the night
The Moore kids were all sleeping, their eyes were closed real tight
Climbing down the chimney, he’d leave the toys with care,
then drink the milk, and eat the cake the children had left there

A wooden train that dad had made, on the fret saw in the shed
A ragged doll that mam had sown, before she went to bed
an apple or an orange, would be in the stocking too
and little books and puzzles, lots of stuff to do

We never knew who’d wake up first and yell “he’s been, he’s been”
and sort through all the presents, the best we’d ever seen
then we’d fall asleep again, excited, and full of joy
even if the best we’d got, was a little wooden toy

That’s Christmas as I remember it, when I was just a lad
in Gorton with my sisters, my mother and my dad
We never thought we had missed out, on toys or love or food
as far as we kids were concerned, we always had it good

Mam and dad are gone now, and it doesn’t seem the same
maybe it’s that we’ve grown old, a little bent and lame
or perhaps it’s too commercial, a thing we didn’t know
But Christmas is still Christmas, so let the love just flow.

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