| The week before Thanksgiving Day
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| This town puts up its old display
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| Streetlights hung with candy canes and bows
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| The earlier it gets each year
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| The scarcer is my Christmas cheer
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| I guess I just like taking these things slow
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| I really don’t remember much
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| Of Christmasses growing up
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| Except the year the Beatles came to play
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| On my record player that came from Sears
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| That White Album filled my ears
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| In 1968 on Christmas Day
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| I haven’t been to church since God knows when
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| I’m not someone who usually attends
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| Truth be told there’s just two wishes
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| On my list every Christmas
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| Peace on earth and a snow storm now and then
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| Now I pray that peace comes in our time
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| It’s hard enough to keep from crying
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| When every bit of news just breaks your heart
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| The same old stories, same old songs
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| We dust them off when Christmas comes
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| And for one day we just try to do our part
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| And around here winter seems to come
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| With rain and mud and bits of sun
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| It’s not exactly Currier and Ives
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| I don’t mind cold if it brings snow
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| Alberta Clippers coem and go
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| But a dursting would make everything all right
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| Perhaps a Christmas eve from long ago
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| Delivered Christmas day with knee-high snow
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| It’s something lost but not forgotten
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| Like candy hidden in a stocking
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| That makes me every year wish it were so
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| Because Christmas is for children’s joy
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| For every single girl and boy
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| That’s the truth we come to understand
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| But the memories that don’t let go
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| Like Beatles songs and falling snow
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| Can make us feel innocent again
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| And maybe next year we won’t go insane
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| When they rush to hang the bows and candy canes
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| Because peace will shine in me and you
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| From Bethlehem to Timbuktu
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| Even if the forecast is for rain
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| Because peace will shine in me and you
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| From Bethlehem to Timbuktu
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| Even if the forecast is for rain |