Another year has slipped right by, from one month to eleven.

And now the twelfth is nearly gone of 1977.

The joys and trials of the year just gone.

All flow and ebb in the sea of life.

The Yule tide is here, but it may be so true

That Christmas has lost its real meaning for you.

Be that as it may, but the fact does remain

That what ever the cause, or whoever's to blame

Without Christmas each year, it would just be a shame.

Most folks in the world would not be the same,

For it makes us all pause, and think of each other.

Without Christmas each year, how many would bother.