Tell it to me. I want to know how, as you travel about, Giving gifts here and there, you never run out. But the child shook his head, and Santa could see That he needed the answer. The truth is that my sack is magic inside, It holds millions of toys for my Christmas Eve ride. I don't always leave them a gaily wrapped toy.
Some homes are hungry, some homes are sad, Some homes are desperate, some homes are bad.
Some homes are broken, and the children there grieve. But for homes where despair lives toys aren't enough. And I pray with them that they'll be given the joy Of the spirit of Christmas, the spirit that lives In the heart of the dear child who gets not, but gives. If only God hears me and answers my prayer, When I visit next year, what I will find there Are homes filled with peace, and with giving, and love And boys and girls gifted with light from above. It's a very hard task, my smart little brother, To give toys to some, and to give prayers to others.