| All year long in the mountains
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| Lives an old man, they say.
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| He wraps up bundles with ribbons,
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| Just to give them away.
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| All year long in the mountains,
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| He looks down to see
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| Kids that are good, and kids that are bad,
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| And treats them accordingly.
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| If you want toys like other little boys
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| In your neighborhood,
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| Don’t wait 'til the night before Christmas
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| To be good.
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| And dolls with curls are for the little girls,
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| Who do things they should,
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| So don’t wait 'til the night before Christmas
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| To be good.
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| You can’t fool Mister Santa Claus,
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| He knows right from wrong;
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| And you can’t be right for just one night,
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| You gotta be right, right along.
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| You’d love to see another Christmas tree
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| Where the old one stood.
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| So don’t wait 'til the night before Christmas
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| To be good.
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| Santa Claus has a big book
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| That helps him to remember,
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| He can tell each kid the things they did
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| From January to December.
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| Jingle bells never jingle
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| For the very bad ones.
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| Every Christmas Day, the good are gay
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| And the bad ones are the sad ones.
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| If you want toys like other little boys
|
| In your neighborhood,
|
| Don’t wait 'til the night before Christmas
|
| To be good.
|
| And dolls with curls are for the little girls,
|
| Who do things they should,
|
| So don’t wait 'til the night before Christmas
|
| To be good.
|
| You can’t fool Mister Santa Claus,
|
| He knows right from wrong;
|
| And you can’t be right for just one night,
|
| You gotta be right, right along.
|
| You’d love to see another Christmas tree
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| Where the old one stood.
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| So don’t wait 'til the night before Christmas
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| To be good. |