On the old piano keys
Jingle Bells is played again
and Jack Frost paints the window pane
with pictures from the fairy glen.
Children rush to look and see
the gifts in piles beneath the tree
wrapped in red and gold and green,
they sparkle in the magic light.
Merry, constant and unseen,
sweeping through the starlit night,
Santa flies above the towns.
The cake and drink we left is gone.

This childhood magic’s over now
but still I sing the Christmas songs.