He’ll be home for Christmas.
I haven’t seen him since the green summer at the bay.
The blue seawater off the coast-
And the setting sun on the Ferry Slip-
a memory to last through the lonely autumn.
But, he’ll be home for Christmas-
To warm me again as the days grow short and cold.
I dream of our reunion:
A romantic kiss under mistletoe-
He’ll sweep me off the feet in the falling snow-
Just like the movies.
He’s the best present I could receive.
Lonely no more-
He’ll be home for Christmas.
Bringing Mae Flowers 