Full Lyrics
Christmas time is here, by golly.
Disapproval would be folly.
Deck the halls with hunks of holly.
Fill the cup and don't say when.
Kill the turkeys, ducks, and chickens,
Mix the punch, drag out the Dickens.
Even though the prospect sickens,
Brother, here we go again.
On Christmas Day you can't get sore.
Your fellow man you must adore.
There's time to rob him all the more
The other three hundred and sixtyfour.
Relations, sparing no expense, 'II
Send some useless old utensil
Or a matching pen and pencil.
("Just the thing I need! How nice!")
