I'm dreaming of a white Christmas, / Just like the ones I used to know.

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

The world would not be in such a snarl,/ had Marx been Groucho instead of Karl.

As I sat on a sunny bank On Christmas day in the morning I spied three ships come sailing in.

Ever since the Christmas of '53, I have felt that the yuletide is a special hell for those families who have suffered any loss or who must admit to any imperfection; the so-called spirit of giving can be as greedy as receiving--Christmas is our time to be aware of what we lack, of who's not home.

Christmas! 'Tis the season for kindling the fire of hospitality in the hall, the genial fire of charity in the heart