♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪The bells of waitingAdvent ringThe tortoise stove is lit againThe lamp oil light across the nightHas caught the streaks of winter rainIn many a stained glass window sheenFrom Crimson Lake to Hooker's GreenThe holly in the windy hedgeAnd round the manor house the yewWill soon be stripped to deck the ledgeThe altar font and arch and pewSo that the villagers can sayThe church looks nice on Christmas Day♪♪♪♪♪Provincial public houses blazeThe corporation tramcars clangOn lighted tenements I gazeWhere paper decorations hangAnd bounting in the red town hallSays Merry Christmas to you allAnd London shops on Christmas EveAre strung with silver bells and flowersAs hurrying clerks the city leaveTo pigeon-haunted classic towersAnd marbled clouds go scudding byThe many-steepled London skyAnd girls in slacks remember DadAnd oafish louts remember MumAnd sleepless children's hearts are gladAnd Christmas morning bells say comeEven to shining ones who dwellSafe in the Dorchester Hotel♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪And is it true, and is it trueThis most tremendous tale of allSeen in a stained-glass window's hueA baby in an oxy stallThe maker of the stars and seaBecome a child on earth for me♪And is it true, for if it isNo loving fingers tying stringsAround those tissueed fripperiesThe sweet and silly Christmas thingsBath salts and inexpensive scentAnd hideous tie so kindly meantNo love that in a family dwellsNo caroling in frosty airNor all the steeple-shaking bellsCan with this single truth compareThat God was man in PalestineAnd lives today in bread and wine♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪