Tell it to me. I want to know how, as you travel about, Giving gifts here and there, you never run out. 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 children there grieve. My sleigh is filled with the happiest stuff, But for homes where despair lives, toys aren't enough. So I tiptoe in, kiss each girl and boy, And 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. 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.