There is no more precious possession anyone could hold. Tell it to me. He leaned up and whispered in Santa's good ear. I want to know how, as you travel about, Giving gifts here and there, you never run out. 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. My sleigh is filled with the happiest stuff, But for homes where despair lives toys aren't enough. It's a very hard task, my smart little brother, To give toys to some, and to give prayers to others. The rest, my dear youth, Is that my sack is magic. And that is the truth.