Santa Claus is coming to town
standing behind a willow tree,
my face was covered with joy and glee
the magic-man in crimson attire
had emerged from the flames of the festive fire

He is getting a clown
a clown, what clown – is this the clown that I had desired
to become a joker, is what I had aspired
a clown with flushed cheeks, and a red nose
a clown is always happy, or I suppose

Santa comes when there is no one around
he tip-toes, and talks to the mice
in the kitchen, he sings to the salt and spice
in my stocking, he fills a sky and a star
oh, he comes from a world so far!

But he comes without a sound
I want to meet him, and ask him about his world
my heart is palpitating, my fingers are curled
but, he is as silent as a creeping fox
as he fills the insides of my Christmas box

He has bound by a duty which he will never forget
and, all I can say, in a voice full of light, is –
Dear Santa, I wish we could have met!